


trials and tribulations of the universes saviour

by imeanthatsprettysnazzy



Series: Everything’s Just Wonderful [2]
Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Alternate Ending, Amnesia, Amputation, Amputee Peter Parker, Endgame Fix-It, F/M, Fix-It, Flash Thompson Redemption, Found Family, Gen, Hurt Peter Parker, Not Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Compliant, Parent Tony Stark, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, Peter Parker Snaps, Peter Parker and Morgan Stark are Siblings, Peter Snaps Instead Of Tony, Temporary Amnesia, Tony Stark Acting as Peter Parker's Parental Figure, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Lives, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, Vines, Worried Tony Stark, like she’s dead but what’s her deal, medical inaccuracy, somethings up with mary parker, worried may parker
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-17
Updated: 2020-11-18
Packaged: 2021-03-04 04:13:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 10
Words: 34,287
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24577378
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/imeanthatsprettysnazzy/pseuds/imeanthatsprettysnazzy
Summary: The thoughts kept racing through his head, them helping block out the continued, strangled begging coming from Mister Stark, along with the pain, as he stared Thanos right in the eyes.“And I..” He spoke loudly, though he could still barely hear himself. “Don’t... Care...”Peter brought his fingers together, and snapped.ORAn alternate version of Endgame where Peter snaps (but survives).This is a continuation of The Brother She Wished That She Knew, but it can be read alone if you want :)(Used to be called When Fate Turns In A Different Direction but that was even cornier than this so I changed it)
Relationships: May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker, May Parker (Spider-Man) & Peter Parker & Pepper Potts & Tony Stark, Michelle Jones & Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Natasha Romanov (Marvel) & Peter Parker, Pepper Potts/Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Avengers Team, Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe), Peter Parker & Morgan Stark (Marvel Cinematic Universe) & Tony Stark, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Series: Everything’s Just Wonderful [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1768861
Comments: 210
Kudos: 1453





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> hello and welcome to instalment two of my less depressing (though lowkey still depressing) marvel universe. I am sorry about what is to come for peter in this chapter. It had to happen. 
> 
> On another note, imma rant for a sec — i get that MCU peter is talkative, and immature, and a bit childish, but what so many people that write him dont seem to get is that he’s not fucking seven. Like, sure, he might like hugs or whatever, but everyone seems to turn him into a babyish, stuttering mess that needs comfort and hugs and attention every five seconds. He. Is. A. Teenager. I’m a teenager, and I know I couldn’t physically bring myself to act that way. Also, in the literal movies, he doesn’t act like a baby, he acts like an immature, kinda sassy, gen fucking Z teenager, which is why i don’t get why everyone writes him this way. I mean, it’s cute and all, but it’s ooc. Thankyou for listening to my ted talk, i will not be writing Peter as a sixteen year old, not a six year old. 
> 
> Also in the hug scene, tony says something to peter — not 100% sure, but i think he says ‘okay kid, calm down’ — if that’s wrong, don’t @ me ahaha. 
> 
> Enjoy the sadness and being in denial xxx

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (its october 17) im editing this whole story because my writing is much less terrible now and it was making me mad :) so ill be working back through all the chapters (only this one has been redone at this point)

* * *

**PART ONE**

* * *

Peter felt weird when he woke up, to say the least. He was in pain — a lot of it. He felt like his entire body was glueing itself together, after completely tearing itself apart.

His thoughts were hazy and unclear, and his head was throbbing painful, like a sensory overload.

The first thing that he registered, outside of the pain that he was feeling, was that he _wasn’t_ in the MedBay — which was weird enough, in itself. Whenever he woke up feeling like shit, he would be in the MedBay… but he couldn’t hear any of the machines that would give his being there away. He couldn’t smell the ‘hospital smell’, or the cleaning chemicals, or the telltale smell of coffee that always lingered after his mentor was dragged away from his bedside my Miss Potts.

Peter could hear some heartbeats — but none of them were Mister Starks. Or Mays. And usually, both of them would be there if he was hurt bad enough to be in the MedBay.

He must have been hurt pretty bad to feel how he did… but he wasn’t in the MedBay.

_What happened to him? Where was he? Who were these people?_

“Quill?” Someone with a deep voice said. “Where’s Nebula?”

“I don’t know,” Another male voice — presumably Quill — replied. “And the guy with the kinda cool goatee?”

A guy with a goatee — that had to be Mister Stark, right? Why would Mister Stark leave him if he was injured enough to feel like his whole body had just fallen apart?

Peter opened his eyes quite abruptly, blinking rapidly to adjust to the new light. He sat up, clutching his still aching head, and looked around.

Everything was orange. There was a broken — _was that a spaceship?_ — something. It was something. It couldn’t be a spaceship — surely.

There were a few… _people_ around. It was seeing them that made Peter remember exactly what had happened to him.

Doctor Strange. He followed him to a donut spaceship thing, and then when Mister Stark tried to send him home, he stowed away.

Star-Guy — Quill. People invaded their runaway flying donut and held him at gunpoint to try get information about where some girl was.

Mister Clean. Bug girl. He didn’t know their real names.

Everyone was there — except Mister Stark, and the blue robot lady… everyone that he had seen _turning into dust_ was there.

He remembered getting all dusty, when Mister Stark was there. He remembered… apologising. And that was it — nothing else until he woke up feeling like absolute shit.

Strange was looking around the group, his hands staring to make the yellow sparkly things that he made all the time. Quill approached him first, offering him a hand up. “You alright, kid?”

“What?” Peter looked up at the man distractedly. “Oh, uh — yeah. I’m fine. What’s going on?”

“It’s been five years.” Doctor Strange said steadily, definitely ignoring the shock that appeared on everyone else’s faces. “Thanos is on Earth, and the Avengers need our help.”

“What the hell?” Peter whispered to himself, before looking up at the wizard and speaking a little louder. “I don’t — how had it been five years? It can’t have been more than a few days, because I mean… that wasn’t long enough to be _years!_ And Thanos… he said he was going to Earth, didn’t he? Surely it wouldn’t take him five years to get to Earth, and —“

“This isn’t the same Thanos that we knew.” Strange said calmly, cutting off his ramble, and clearly ignoring the fact that Peter was _freaking out._ “Five years ago, we all died, along with half of the Universe. The Avengers found a way to bring them back, but accidentally brought an alternate version of the titan from 2014 with them, and they’re fighting with him as you delay us, so we need to _go!”_

Nobody said anything, so Strange gave a short nod, and opened one of his yellow portal things. The space people all went through first, and Peter jumped from behind them, landing on a rocky bit on land, surrounded by hundreds of other people.

It took him a moment to realise that they actually _were_ on Earth… because of all the dust and aliens and everything. But somehow he just _knew._ This was Earth — he was even pretty sure he was in New York, somehow.

Which begged the question of _what the hell happened to New York_ — but he ignored it, instead trying to see who he was actually around.

Steve Rogers — _Captain America! —_ was standing in front of him, a little bit to the left. Peter could see Thor (who looked kind of… chubby, now), and Hulk (who was wearing clothes?) — he tried to turn further, and find Mister Stark, but the fact that Thanos and his army was right in front of them seemed like a bit of a more pressing matter.

“Avengers! —“ The captain said loudly, hold both his shield and Thors — _he had Thors hammer! —_ Peter shook his head slightly to stop himself fanboying as Captain America continued. “ _Assemble.”_

There were battle cries from every direction. People in tribal-looking clothes charged forward on the ground. A woman on a unicorn — _a unicorn! —_ flew overhead, as well as a bunch of Iron-Man-looking suits. Peter followed suit, surging forward towards Thanos and his army with everyone else.

The giant guy from the airport in Germany was there, and Peter used one of his arms to swing off, and keep up with the rest of the avengers and… _other_ people that he had no clue existed. Or why they were there.

Peter was really confused. He didn’t know what he should be doing, or who he should be fighting. He could see the big guy from Titan stabbing some alien in the back, and the Wakandan king fighting off aliens with a few of the tribal people. For a moment, he caught sight of Mister Stark and some other, blue Iron-Man suit shooting aliens together above him, and then he saw Captain America and Thor fighting together too.

There was so much happening.

He lost sight of his mentor, and scanned the battlefield for him — finally seeing him fighting off some aliens near the ruins of something.

Once again; _what the hell happened here?_

Mister Stark was on the ground, and alien above him, about to stab him with its weird pointy arm thingy. Peter jumped forward and shot a web at it, yanking it backwards and off of Mister Stark. He winced as giant-Ant-Man stepped on the alien, squashing it, and rushed forward to help his mentor up.

“Hey!” Peter panted, retracting his mask as he grabbed Mister Stark’s arm and hauled him up. “Holy cow, you will not believe what’s been going on!”

Mister Stark looked older. His goatee was greying, and his hair had flecks of silver in it.

It was weird.

His mentor seemed a bit frozen, staring at him in complete amazement and disbelief, but Peter kept talking. “Do you remember when we were in space, and I got all dusty? Well I must’ve passed out, because I woke up, and you were gone — but Doctor Strange was there, right? And he was like _‘come on, it’s been five years, they need us!’,”_ Mister Stark looked at him weirdly, his head slightly tilted, but Peter continued, imitating the wizard making a portal. “And then he started doing that yellow sparkly thing, that he does, all the time, and —“

Mister Stark was moving forward, opening his arms and wrapping them around Peter. He mumbled something along the lines of _‘okay kid, calm down’_ as he engulfed Peter in an embrace.

“—What’re you doing?” Peter asked, a bit confused at the hug — and the _closeness._ Mister Stark didn’t _like_ closeness, and physical affection and… _hugs._ “Oh..” Peter said slowly, realising that this was a _hug._ “This is nice.”

His mentor held him a bit tighter, and Peter let himself lean into the hug, his arms awkwardly returning it.

Mister Stark didn’t hug often — and Peter never knew how to react when he did.

Then, Mister Stark did the weird (admittedly very parental) thing that he’d only ever done a few times — mainly when Peter was really, really hurt. He moved sightly, and kissed Peter on the cheek.

Usually, Peter would tease him about doing that for days… but in that moment, it was just nice. Warm and familiar, in the stress of the battle.

They stayed there, hugging, for a moment, before Mister stark patted him on the back, and finally released him, grimacing. “Alright.” The older man said, stepping back a bit and offering Peter a small smile. “Be careful — don’t get hurt. You’ve got an overexcited Morgan to meet and she’ll flip if you’ve broken too many bones to play with her.”

“Morgan actually —“

“— we’ll talk about it later, Pete.” Mister Stark cut him off. “Just be _careful,_ okay?”

“Okay —“ Peter murmured. “Okay, what do I —“

And just like that, Mister Stark was gone, flying off in his suit with one final _‘be careful’,_ as he left.

The thought of Morgan Stark’s existence was nice. Mister Stark and Miss Potts had exactly four conversations that he overheard before going to space — about Mister Stark dreaming that they had a little kid, and Miss Potts telling him that he was being ridiculous.

It was those conversations that had made him take extra precautions in making his death videos — which Mister Stark had probably received by now.

It had been selfish, really — no wanting his mentor to have a _proper_ kid that didn’t know about him. A part of him had always hoped that if he had died, Mister Stark would tell any children that he had about Peter.

And apparently he had, if Morgan Stark was waiting to meet him.

Peter wasn’t really sure what he was meant to be doing, other than… _being careful,_ so he just kind of _ran —_ toward the conflict.

He kept May in mind as he fought. And Ned. And MJ — and now, Morgan Stark. People to keep him going in the battle.

He felt bad for thinking it, but he hoped that May, Ned, and MJ had died too. 

Black Panther — King T’Challa of Wakanda — was struggling in some massive rock formation thing, the gauntlet that Thanos had worn before _five_ years happened win his arms.

“I’ve got it!” Peter yelled, as he jumped forward and picked the gauntlet up with a web. He landed on one of Thanos’ army aliens, and more of them started to surround him. “Karen, activate instant kill!” He yelled, as they started piling up around him.

His extra legs started acting on their own accord, stabbing his attackers as he tried to keep the gauntlet firmly in his grip.

“I got this.” He muttered, as more and more of them attacked him, beginning to overtake the instant kill, and getting much too close to killing _him_ for his liking. “I got this — okay, I don’t got this! Help! Somebody help!”

“Hey Queens!” He heard Captain America say. “Heads up.”

Thors hammer came flying above him, and he shot a web at it, managing to escape the pile of aliens with its help. He flew behind it for a few seconds, before a blue laser beam severed his web, making him start to fall as the hammer kept going without him.

He had almost hit the ground when the blue Iron-Man suit picked him up. “Hang on,” Pepper Potts — _holy shit, Pepper Potts was in a suit! —_ said, flying him up away from the ground. “I got you, kid.”

She flung him upward, so that he landed on the unicorn, behind the woman in the metal armour. “Hey!” He exclaimed. “Nice to meet youuuoh my god!”

The airstrike started to intensify, and the unicorn — was it a unicorn? It looked like a unicorn — seemed to be having trouble dodging the attacks. One of the beams came too close, and Peter was knocked away from the woman and her winged horse. He grabbed desperately at the gauntlet as he fell, and landed on the ground haphazardly. He tried to run forward, but another blast knocked him back down to a small crater in the ground.

The airstrike continued, and then… and then it stopped, the weapons instead moving to point at something in the sky, where they started shooting.

Something fast and glowing shot through the ship that was firing at it, making all of it’s weapons stop working and die. It shot back through the ship, floating above it in all its glowing glory as the ship sunk down into the water below it.

Thanos looked shook.

The glowing figure flew down toward the ground, landing in front of the little crater that Peter was lying, clutching the gauntlet to his chest, in. It became less glowy, so he could see a woman with short blonde hair.

“Hi.” He said, still not moving. “I’m Peter Parker.”

The woman smirked. “Hey Peter Parker. Got something for me?”

Peter stumbled up, ignoring the blood pouring from his nose, and watched the energy army charging at them — the Chitauri. He looked back up at the glowing woman. “I don’t know how you’re gonna get it through all of that.”

Then, Wanda Maximoff landed next to them, the unicorn lady flying in slightly behind her. “Dont worry.” Wanda said.

One of the Wakandan warriors landed next to him, as Miss Potts came down in front of them. “She’s got help.” The Wakandan finished.

Then the bug lady from Titan was there too. And a green lady. And _Princess_ Shuri of Wakanda. And a woman with wings that appeared out of nowhere. And the blue woman — Nebula, he was pretty sure her name was.

That was awesome. So awesome.

What MJ wouldn’t give to see this. She would absolutely _love_ it. 

He didn’t know what made him realise it, but as the women charged, he thought of Natasha Romanoff. Noted her absence.

The Black Widow had always intrigued him — seeing her on TV had always given him a strange sense of deja vu… and when he met her in Germany, she felt strangely familiar.

So, despite not actually knowing her, the part of him that found familiarity in her mourned when he realised that she must be _dead._ Wished that she wasn’t.

His thoughts drifted to MJ again — wondering if she had survived. Then to May and Ned, wondering if _they_ had survived. He pushed the thoughts away. He could think about that later.

The glowy woman flew the gauntlet through the chaos — but something hit her, and the crashed to the ground. Peter lost sight of the gauntlet, but he could see that she didn’t have it.

Mister stark tried to attack Thanos, but was thrown to the ground. Thor and Captain America both got beaten up too, trying to get the gauntlet — which Peter could see again — off him.

The woman went back to fight him again, glowing even brighter than before, but was just as unsuccessful as the others; being thrown away. The stones glowed in the gauntlet as Thanos put it on, colourful energy flying up his right arm. Glowing woman tried to get it off him again, but he punched her with the purple stone, and she went flying off into the distance again.

Peter saw the look on Mister Starks face, and followed his line of sight — saw Doctor Strange holding up a single finger.

_Fourteen thousand, six hundred and five. We win one._

And suddenly, Peter knew. He charged forward as his mentor lunged at Thanos again. Mister Stark got hold of the stones without Thanos noticing.

_Shit!_

Peter collided with the older man before the stones could embed themselves in his armour, taking them and letting the nanotech of his own suit encase them. He rolled over, landing some distance away from Mister Stark on his knees, the stone beginning to settle on his right hand.

“I am inevitable.” Thanos said loudly, snapping his fingers.

Nothing happened. Nobody ceased to exist. Peter could pinpoint the exact moment that the titan realised his precious stones were missing — and saw the expression that could only be described as surprise as Thanos saw him, the glow of the stones beginning to run up his arm.

All he could feel, on his whole right side, was _pain._ He could _taste_ it — a gross, metallic feeling in his mouth. It was all consuming.

The pain was grounding, though, and distracted him from Mister Starks yells for him to stop. From the pure anguish in his mentors voice.

He could barely think coherently, but he knew he needed to… _snap._ And wish something. Was that the right word?

He needed his wish, and something to say to Thanos.

 _Get rid of Thanos._ He thought desperately. _Get rid of Thanos, and the Chitauri, and their army. Dust everyone that’s been fighting for Thanos. Let Natasha Romanoff win. Let Thanos’ army disappear._

The thoughts kept racing through his mind, and he used some of the little energy that he had left to glare at Thanos. “And I…” He spoke loudly, but could barely hear himself. “Don’t… Care!”

He brought his fingers together, and snapped. 

The battlefield was gone, the sound of his snap echoing around him in a strange, inhuman sounding way.

Everything around him was shades of orange and red, and when Peter turned, he found something strangely familiar — the kitchen from his childhood home. From the house in the suburbs that he used to live in before his parents died.

There were four people gathered in the kitchen, sipping from coffee mugs; two men and two women.

“Hello?” He called, as he walked up to them, avoiding eye contact ad looking down to the floor as the tallest of the group, a man, turned around and stared at him. “Um… hi. I’m —“

“Peter…” The man said softly, causing the other three people to turn to look at him too. _“Peter!”_

Peter looked up, and realised who was there.

His jaw dropped, and his eyes widened.

His parents. Uncle Ben. _May._

_What the hell?_

Ben grinned at him, and Peter gave an awkward half wave, before he started to ramble involuntarily. “This is — _insane!_ How are you guys _here?_ Like… where even is here? Is this the mirror of Erised or some shi — something?” His eyes darted between the four faces, and he felt such immense happiness at seeing all of them together that he could couldn’t stop the words from continuing. “Wait, no! This is like the stone — from the Deathly Hallows, right? And like, it was caused by stones — so it’s like at the end, when Harry’s turning himself in to Voldemort, when Lily and James, and Sirius and Remus all show up as like… visions? And so you guys are here — and our old kitchen, for some reason? Why’s the _kitchen_ here?”

They all looked amused — his dad muttering something about _‘wish I lived until Deathly Hallows existed’,_ and his mom slapping his dads arm lightly at the comment. “Oh my god!” Peter realised. “What id this _isn’t_ the stone, and it’s more like Kings Cross? Like, where Harry sees Dumbledore? Because I just did a stupid thing that’ll probably kill me, and now I’m seeing a bunch of dead people? Wait — does this mean I’m alive?”

Once again, his dad spoke. Richard Parker. “Yeah, son. You’re alive. Just scaring Tony Stark a whole damn lot.” His dad patted him on the shoulder, grinning, and chuckled shortly. “I don’t know _how_ you managed to get _Tony Stark_ on your side, but good job.”

Peter laughed softly at the comment.

Richard Parker was taller than both Peter and Ben, but he still wasn’t overly tall. He looked exactly like Peter remembered him; clean-shaven , plainly dressed in jeans and a graphic t-shirt, with short, messy hair, which was a bit lighter than Peters own. He had thick glasses, like the ones that Peter used to wear. Peters dad carried himself confidently, though more in a good natured, humorous way, than the sort of confidence that arrogant people had.

It was pretty obvious to Peter that despite his moms more laid back, quiet demeanour, she was silently the authority in the relationship.

It was funny, how all of the couples that were… _parental_ to him — his parents, his aunt and uncle, Mister Stark and Miss Potts — were like that. Strong, confident men with their partners being able to be in charge easily.

“Shit!” Peter looked over to his aunt, realising something. “May, you’re not —“

May laughed quietly, and shook her head. “I’m not dead, Peter.”

He sighed in relief. “And it worked? Thanos and his guys are dead?”

“Yeah.” May said.

“And Miss Romanoff is alive?”

His mom frowned, leaning her hip on the counter and holding her cup with both hands. “Not yet. She will be, though. Soon.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It _means_ that you’ve made it possible for her to come home — someone just has to do one more thing.”

“What —“

“Don’t worry about it, honey.” His mom said softly. “She’ll be okay.”

His mom was also just how he remembered, before the plane crash. She was short, and her dark, curly hair was cut short, just above her shoulders, with a thin fringe. Her eyes were bright and green — and looked full of more _emotion_ than Peter could ever remember.

Most memorably, she was wearing huge, interesting earrings. That had always been her special thing. Her earrings.

She… seemed much more guarded than he remembered — like she’d lived through more trauma than he would think she had.

His mom was intriguing, and Peter wished he knew more about her. Wished he got more than five years with her.

“Nat will be fine.” His mom continued. “Thanks to _you. You_ saved her.”

Peter smiled at the praise, but found it a bit odd that his mom called _the_ Natasha Romanoff ‘Nat’. 

He was too happy about his family being there, _together,_ to think too much of it.

He let himself look at Ben, easily becoming transfixed by his Uncles presence. Peter was a bit taller than Ben now, having grown taller in the four years since his Uncles death. Ben looked as he had as long as Peter could remember; grown out buzzcut, sparkling eyes, flannel shirt under the green jacket that belonged to Peter now. He even had his NYPD badge hanging around his neck, they way they wore it on Brooklyn Nine Nine — the way Peter had always insisted that he wore it.

Peter didn’t even want to think about the fact that Ben died in 2014 — before season two was even released. That he only ever saw season one.

Peter swallowed. “Ben, I’m —“

“If you apologise right now, I’m gonna have to whack you.” Ben cut him off, leaning on the bench next to Peter and ruffling his hair the way he’d done for as long as Peter could remember. “You were _twelve,_ Pete. You were just a kid, and I was off duty. It wasn’t your fault, and neither of us could do anything about it.”

“But I—“

Ben tilted his head, looking at Peter in the way that he always did when Peter was being stupid.

“It’s just been really without you.” Peter whispered. “You’re the reason I became Spider-Man. Because I didn’t want people to go through what we did.”

“And I’m proud of you for that. We all are — you’re doing a really great thing.”

“God, we’re so proud.” His mom murmured, looking at him fondly. “Seriously. Rich, how did we make this” She turned from his dad to stare at Ben and May. “How did you guys make this kid so amazing. I swear to god, I can’t believe he came from _me!”_

May laughed. “It was all four of us. He’s a group project that we somehow managed not to fuck up.”

“ _Hey!”_ Peter protested.

Ben distracted him by pulling him into a hug — which May and both his parents joined.

They stayed like that for quite a while, before they all collectively released him. When they did, his mom looked to his dad pointedly, and his dad gave a short nod in response. She pulled him away from the group, holding him at arms length and searching his face. She sighed. “I’m sorry I wasn’t there, honey.” She said quietly.

“It’s okay mom.” He shrugged. “It wasn’t your choice. I still love you.”

His mom gave a quiet chuckle, the love still clear in her gaze. “I love you too, baby. You’re my little miracle — more so than you could ever imagine.”

Peter smiled at her, not even trying to hide the tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. “Do I have to leave you all? Can’t I stay here with you and Dad and Ben?”

“There are people back there that need you, Peter.” She said, rubbing his arms comfortingly. “And we’re always right there, with you, watching over you.”

He sniffed, bowing his head. “I wish I knew you for longer.”

“Me too, honey.” She wrapped him in a hug again, and he buried his face in her shoulder. “But we still got the years together that we did.”

“Yeah.” Peter said softly. “We did.”

His mother released him, and glanced back toward where his dad was, and shook her head slightly. “Your dad wanted to hide you from my past.” She said slowly. “But you deserve to know. And he barely knows the start of it — plus, you’re old enough now, and you just risked everything to save Nat. You need to know.” Her voice was gentle, and she sighed. “There’s a key hidden in the frame of a photo of your father and I, in Mays apartment — one of us in Greece. It’s for a storage unit in Staten Island — it might... explain some things.”

“Sabina.” His dads voice came from the kitchen counter. “Pete has to go soon, stop hogging him!”

Peter grinned at his dad, and his mom rolled her eyes, laughing a little, before he realised.

Sabina.

His mom just answered to Sabina — but her name was Mary.

He supposed the answer to his confusion must be in the Staten Island storage unit.

They all shared hugs again, and said goodbyes, before he felt himself loosing consciousness. “I love all of you!” He managed to murmur, before he went completely under.

Then, the orange world was gone. The kitchen was gone. His mom and dad, his aunt and uncle — all of it, _gone._

The pain, blinding, terrifying, all-consuming, returned, and he could barely register what was happening around him. He could see thing turning to dust around him. Could hear mister Stark Screaming his name. Could feel the Iron Spider suit receding from around him, the stones falling to the ground.

His mentor, clutching him tightly. Sobbing. Screaming.

Peters eyesight became filled with black spots. His hearing gave out, and he was engulfed in nothingness.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi i apologise about the bad quality of this chapter, Tony Stark is fucking hard to write 
> 
> I also apologise for the large amount of swearing
> 
> And the sadness 
> 
> Also i’m not a doctor
> 
> Enjoy, children.

* * *

**PART TWO**

* * *

Tony watched in horror at Peter went slack after snapping; not comprehending the enemy army disappearing around them. He only had eyes for Peter.

For his kid, who was stumbling into some of the wreckage of the compound. He cried as he followed the kid, stumbling over his feet as he followed him to the piece of metal that he was curled up in.

He double tapped his arc reactor as he ran to Peter, letting his suit melt away from around him.

The kids eyes were glazed over and unfocused, staring blankly over Tonys shoulder as he threw himself at Peter, pressing the housing unit of the nanotech suit desperately, making it seep away from Peters body, leaving him in his original spider suit.

The stones — those _goddamn stones —_ fell from the suit as it retracted, landing on the dusty ground that had, just hours ago, been lush green grass. Tony ignored them, and scooped Peter into him arms, gripping him tightly. He kept crying. “C’mon kid.” He muttered as his tears fell on the kids face. “Wake up. Open your _damn eyes,_ Peter! Pete, just — please — _please,_ kid, I —”

He cut off in a sob, as he saw blood start to trail from Peters mouth.

The air smelled like charred and burning flesh, and blood. The stones were still glowing brightly from where they were scattered, but all Tony could see through his tear-blurred eyes was _Peter._

He felt Peppers comforting hand resting on his shoulder, and her voice talking softly. “Tony, it’s okay. It’ll all be okay. We can fix this.”

He shook his wife off, giving her a teary grimace over his shoulder — accidentally catching sight of Steve kneeling down, looking to the ground dejectedly.

Steve was _giving up_ on Peter. Steve was _accepting_ the fact that the kid was _dying._

The other Avengers were all paying their respects to the one that stopped Thanos.

Tony shook his head, and brought his attention back to Peter. “FR — FRIDAY,” He choked out, still holding the kids body close, unable to let go of him, incase — incase —

— incase this was the _end._

“FRIDAY,” He tried again. “FRI, connect to Karen and get — get vitals. Show me his vitals.”

“Yes, Boss.” Came the AI’s response, drowning out the sound of his tears momentarily. “Heart rate is currently at forty two beats per minute, temperature is one hundred and three degrees Fahrenheit, along with numerous injuries, including a broken nose, severe burning on the right arm, and a dislocated left shoulder. Medical attention is required immediately.”

 _“Shit.”_ He muttered, loosening his grip on Peter and lowering him to rest back on the piece of wreckage he had fallen into, to stand up and look around desperately. “Shit. Shit, shit, shit — _fuck!_ I need… I need Strange. I need Strange, ad a hospital, which — _Princess Shuri! T’Calla!”_

Tony’s brain was short circuiting, stuck in a loop, the only coherent thoughts being _help kid, need doctor. Help kid, need doctor._

“Shuri! T’Challa!” He repeated their names over and over again, only calming slightly from his state of delirium when the Wakandan royalty were by his side, both very obviously trying not to look at Peters deteriorating body. “Wakanda — in Wakanda, you have medical. I need — we need to get him to medical, you have to — please. You’ve gotta help me — Please. _Please.”_

“We must get him there immediately.” The princess said, before T’Challa could speak. “Flying will take too long — we need the wizard. Wizard!”

Strange hurried over from the rocky outcrop, where he was whispering rapidly to one of the monk wizard. “Wakanda?” He asked quickly. Shuri nodded.

“Stark.” The king said hurriedly. “Help me carry him.”

Tony complied, and Rhodey came over to help too. They rushed through the portal, and carried him through a hallway, before he was placed onto a stretcher.

Shuri pushed him and Rhodey away, before pushing the stretcher in the other direction with Strange.

Tony slumped down against the wall, clutching at his chest desperately. His left arm was numb, and he couldn’t breathe properly.

Rhodey was crouched next to him, whispering soothing words, and trying to urge him out of his panic attack. Tony cried until he couldn’t cry any more.

Soon enough — Tony wasn’t sure how long it had been — T’Challa reappeared, no longer wearing his suit. He lead Tony and Rhodey away from the random hallway that they occupied, instead taking them to a richly furnished room, full of large couches and tables. There was food and drinks set out for them, and Petter was already there, head buried in her hands.

She looked up when they entered, and rushed to. Tony, pulling him into a tight hug.

_The last person he hugged was Peter._

When she let go, she kissed his cheek lightly, and gripped his hands, leading him to sit on a couch with her. Rhodey followed them, and the King cleared his throat.

“He has been taken to a surgical suite.” T’Challa explained in a calm voice. “They’re operating on him as we speak — my sister said that they are feeling hopeful at the moment. Just… wait here for as long as you need. Shuri will come when there’s an update.”

Tony nodded.

“Thank you.” Pepper whispered.

T’Challa smiled at them apologetically, and then left them to freak out by themselves.

Tony didn’t speak after that. He just sat, face buried in his hands, trying not to think about _anything._

Because it was meant to be _him. He_ was going to do it.

It was meant to be _anyone but_ Peter. _Never_ Peter.

He stayed there, frozen, for quite some time, only shifting to grip his left wrist — which was hurting a lot. It must have been quite a while, because when he finally looked up from his hand, Pepper was asleep, and Rhodey wasn’t in the room anymore.

But he needed to call _May._

May. He needed to tell May that her nephew, who was _everything_ to her, who was _all that she had left,_ was fighting for his life because _Tony_ had been an idiot, and hadn’t benched him.

Tony should have benched him.

He took his phone from the pocket of his pants, and shakily searched for Happy in his contacts. He pressed dial immediately, and Happy picked up on the second ring.

_“Go for Happy.”_

“Hap.” Tony said croakily, holding the phone too his ear tightly. “Hap, the kid — Peter, Spider-Man, he —“ Tony swallowed the lump that was reappearing in his throat. “He’s injured. A lot. I need you to — I need you to get Morgan, and get May, and — I’ll send a quinjet to bring you all here, because Strange is busy doing surgery and — be as quick as you can, Hap.”

“ _Got it. Where do you think May’ll be?”_

“Queens.” Tony said immediately. “Their old place, probably, or… or maybe that sandwich place, that the kid loves so much? I — one of those places. Try the apartment first.”

_“Okay. I’m on it. I’ll go now, boss.”_

Happy hung up before Tony had the chance to ask to talk to Morgan.

He trusted Happy wholeheartedly — to bring Morgan and May to where Peter was.

Tony wished they would let him see his kid.

People came and went from the room; Rhodey came back, then Wakandan doctors flitted in and out, checking over him, Rhodey and Pepper — patching them up, forcing them to eat and drink. Giving them painkillers for their wounds.

The Avengers arrived eventually — Thor, Steve, Clint, Bruce, Sam, Wanda, Bucky, Scott, Hope. The Guardians came, too, with Nebula and her sister. The absence of Natasha weighed down on them heavily.

Tonys mind was still screaming at him, though. Screaming _Peter, Peter, Peter_ on repeat, over and over and over. 

_It shouldn’t have been Peter. It should’ve been him; never his kid. It should’ve been him._

_It should’ve been him._

_It should’ve been him._

Time was loosing meaning to Tony. It could’ve been an hour since they arrived in Wakanda, or it could’ve been a week. He was guessing it had been a few hours, but… he had no way of knowing, really.

Shuri came to the room, as T’Challa had said she would. She didn’t need to say anything to Tony for him to stand up and follow her, almost in a trance.

He didn’t really know Shuri — before the blip having only met her two or three times, when he travelled to Wakanda to talk to T’Challa about Avengers business. She was nice, though. Genius. Funny. Tony had always thought that she was a lot like Peter. That they would get along great.

Now, he might never get to know.

“We’ve stabilised him.” The Princess explained, as she led him though the seemingly never-ending hallways of the hospital. “He went into cardiac arrest four times, but now his heart rate and blood pressure are stable. His temperature is a bit on the high side, but we can work with that. He… well, most of his minor injuries have healed — he has very good abilities.”

“Yeah.” Tony muttered under his breath. “Makes it annoying when he thinks his abilities mean he doesn’t need to tell you that he’s been stabbed”

Shuri laughed, and Tony finally let himself relax a bit.

Peter was okay. He was going to be okay.

He’d gone into cardiac arrest _four times,_ which was terrifying, but now, he was _okay._

Shuri kept telling him about Peters state. “His left shoulder had to be reset, but it has healed now… we’ve hit a bit of a speed bump, though.”

_Fuck._

They stopped in front of a door, a plaque on it labelled ‘ _room 415’._ Peters name hung below the room number on a hastily written sign. Shuri sighed. “I must warn you, Mister Stark, he doesn’t look too great at the moment. He’s been under immense trauma, and… he — we will need to discuss the best course of action for him.” She paused, then added as an afterthought. “Try not to freak out when you see him.”

The Princess pushed open the door, and let Tony inside. He took in the room, letting his eyes wander everywhere _but_ the bed, where he knew Peters very hurt body would be lying.

The centre of the large room was greys and whites, lots of machines surrounding the bed that Tony refused to let his eyes settle on. The rest of the room was furnished comfortably, decorated in warm, earthy colours. There were chairs and couches, a small coffee table, and a fridge in the corner. Made for both the injured (or sickly), and their distressed loved ones.

Tony took a deep breath, and stepped closer to the kid, finally letting himself look at Peter.

Peter, who looked like absolute _shit._

There were harsh purple bruises covering his left shoulder and across his jaw. Raw pink skin covered what had previously been cuts and ripped up flesh.

So, Peters healing hadn’t been entirely useless.

That was the best of it, though.

His face wasn’t covered in the dust and dirt of Titan and the battle, and most of the cuts and bruises from the fight were gone… though somehow, he looked so much worse. Because Peter was pale. Too pale. He was white as a sheet, his skin almost watching the tone of the blankets that smothered his body.

His arm — his _right_ arm — was worse than everything else though. His entire hand, up to about halfway up his forearm, was completely black. Charred. Burned to the point that it looked like charcoal. Above that, ending in tendrils that crept up his veins across his chest and up onto his face, was an aggravated, burning red. Where the burns ended, on his chest, neck and face, the skin was swollen and beginning to bruise. It kind of reminded Tony of his Palladium poisoning — just much, much worse.

Honestly, Peter looked like a corpse. He _didn’t_ look okay.

A strangled, choking sound left Tonys throat.

_This wasn’t meant to happen. Not to Peter._

_It was meant to be him._

Tonys left arm began to ache even more, and his chest seared painfully. He grasped at his chest, breathing heavily and stumbling. Shuri steadied him.

“Mister Stark, please _calm down.”_ She said, making him glare at her. “One broken white boy is enough — and he takes that spot. So calm down.”

Tony breathed in deeply, and nodded. “Okay.” He murmured.

“Okay.” Shuri said. “We advise that his right arm be amputated.”

Tony froze, and Strange entered the room with a Wakandan woman. He turned to Strange in anger. “You.” He seethed, jabbing a finger into the wizards chest. _“You_ did this! _YOU_ let this happen to him. _You —“_

“Stark.” Strange interrupted. “Yell at me later. His condition is more important right now.”

Tony backed down. “I hate you.” He muttered under his breath.

“Alright.” The Wakandan doctor began. “If we do not remove his arm, the radiation infection will continue to spread, and will eventually begin to kill more of his body. We need your permission to go through with the amputation.”

Tony gripped his arm tighter.

“All we need.” Strange said calmly. “Is your permission for us to amputate his arm — from roughly two inches below the shoulder.”

“I —“ Tony glared at the wizard, choking on his words. _“I can’t_ — I can’t _do_ that. I’m not — I’m not the kid’s aunt. It’s not _my_ choice to make.”

“You are the only option at this time, Mister Stark.” The Wakandan doctor said. “Unless his… _aunt_ is _available_ sometime in the next ten minutes.”

“She’s… we don’t know where she is, yet.” He said. He stared at Peter, unable to look away from the kid’s ghostly pale face. He looked back to the the doctors tearily. “So… he keeps the arm, it kills him slowly?”

All three of them nodded, but Tony only registered the two doctors. He couldn’t give less of a shit about Stephen Strange’s opinion.

“Fine. Do it. I’m staying here, though. And you —“ He jabbed his hand back at Strange. “Are dealing with May Parker. You have to explain what you let happen to her nephew to her.”

Strange glared at him. “It was the only way —“

“I don’t _care, Stephen!”_ Tony snapped. “This shouldn’t have been put on the shoulders of a _sixteen year old_ kid. Somebody _else_ should have done it.” Strange opened his mouth to speak, but Tony sins give him time to speak. “Don’t talk to me. Just help fix what _you_ allowed to happen.”

Tony collapsed into one of the comfortable chairs — the one closest to Peters bed, on the left side. He gripped Peters left hand gently, carefully, afraid that the slightest moment would break the kid.

Tony sat there stubbornly through the entire surgery, unable to watch as they amputated Peters arm, but unable to leave the kids side. Unable to let go of Peters free hand. He ran his spare hand through Peters matted hair, attempting to untangle some of the knots in it, mainly unsuccessfully.

He actually found it quite comforting — a feeling that he remembered from all those years ago, when he’d stare at an unconscious Peter from a chair in the MedBay, running his hand through the kid’s hair as he did now. It always calmed him down when he was freaking out about the kid’s wellbeing.

When they finally finished the surgery, Strange, Shuri and the Wakandan doctor left the room. Pepper and Rhodey came in to see him and the kid, and Rhodey told him that it had been seven hours since they won — since _Peter_ defeated Thanos.

Pepper pulled him not another hug, and he regained the ability to speak that he hadn’t had earlier, when they were waiting for the initial news on Peter. “Why would he do this?” He whispered desperately into the hug. “I — Pep, I _had_ them and he just — he just _stole_ them from me and — and now he’s — he —“

“Shh,” Pepper murmured as he cut off in a choked sob. “Shh, Tony, it’s okay. He’s going to be okay.”

Tears started to fall again, as his wife let go of him, and Rhodey hugged him. “He lost a fucking _arm.”_ He told Rhodey, and his best friend just nodded, also letting go of him.

“I know, Tones.” Rhodey said. “But he’ll be okay. He’s _Peter —_ he always ends up okay.”

Tony took a deep breath, and nodded. He slumped back down on his chair, taking Peters hand in his own again.

Soon enough, Rhodey left to get some sleep. Then, somebody pulled Pepper from the room, and told him that May had arrived, and that Pepper would bring her and Morgan up to see Peter.

He stepped out of the room silently, terrified of how May would react to Peters condition. Of how she would react when she saw what _he_ had let happen to Peter.

Tony felt a bit less scared of what would happen when he saw his daughter. He sighed, and looked to May apologetically; sorrowfully. “He’s, uh… He’s stable for the moment — still out of it, but they’re positive that he’ll be fine.” Tony explained. “They got him out of surgery about ten minutes ago, but… he lost his arm.”

May opened her moth in shock, as though she was going to yell at him. Tony shook his head hurriedly, and cut her off. “— I’ll explain what happened later, May.”

He pushed the door behind him open and, within seconds, Morgan had pushed past him, and was flinging herself toward Peters unconscious body — or, at least, the chair closest to his bed. Thankfully she didn’t actually jump on the very hurt, very broken Spider-Kid.

May looked at him with raised eyebrows, surprised, and Tony let out a soft chuckle. “She’s… she’d always wanted to meet him — we told her that… that he was her brother. Oh god, May, I’m — I’m sorry for not asking you about it first, and about his arm, and —“

“Tony.” He looked up at her as the woman spoke. “It’s okay. It’s fine. If that’s what he needed to survive, then…” She swallowed. “As long as Peter’s okay. And, with Morgan — he _is_ your kid now, too, you know? She is as much of his sister as any daughter of Mary and Richards would have been.” May glanced over at Morgan fondly. “She’d a great kid. Reminds me of Pete when he first came to live with us.”

Tony smiled at the thought of tiny Peter.

He was a little surprised when May engulfed him in a hug, and returned it somewhat hesitantly. “Thank you.” She murmured. “For taking care of my baby.”

May let go of him, and sat down with Morgan next to Peter, wrapping an arm around the four year old, and pulling her close. She smiled sadly when she looked at Peter.

Tony ran a tired hand down his face, and sat down on the other side of Peters bed.

Peter was alive — now he just needed to wake up. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> HELLO HI HEHE TWO CHAPTERS IN LESS THAN 24 HOURS ARE YALL PROUD OF ME (u should be)
> 
> SHITS GONNA HIT THE FAN NEXT CHAPTER SO PREPARE URSELVES 
> 
> LOVE YALL 3000! SEEYA NEXT CHAPTER


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> y’all i’ve been so productive with this story  
> I would like to apologise in adavance — things still ain’t great  
> But we get Nat, and a lil bit of Morgan , so that’s fun  
> enjoy <3

* * *

**PART THREE**

* * *

It took another five hours after the removal of Peters right arm for them to suspect that he might have entered a comatose state. His vitals were fine, he was reacting well to anaesthetics, and his stump seemed to be gradually repairing itself… but it had been twelve hours since he initially went unconscious — and he was meant to have woken up by now.

It was the Wakandan doctor — Doctor Nezana — that broke the news to Tony, May and Pepper.

She ushered them out of Peters room quietly, leaving Morgan curled up and asleep inside, and then spoke in a steady voice. “We were unable to detect this in the preliminary tests,” she explained, showing them a scan of Peters brain. “But since the initial trauma caused by the stones, his brain has swollen significantly. The delayed reaction seems to have been caused by his healing abilities, but now…” She sighed. “He will be in a coma — we’re uncertain of when he will wake up.”

May let out a quiet wail, and Pepper pulled the other woman into a comforting embrace. Tony didn’t know how to react. He froze, as he processed the doctors words, and then felt the now familiar ache of his left arm. Nezana looked at them sympathetically, and let them back into the room, to Peters _comatose_ body.

The hours turned into days. The days turned into a week.

Tony was worried about May.

Everyone was handling the situation differently, but May… This was the worst thing imaginable for May. She had _raised_ Peter. He was all she had left after her husband died. He was her everything.

And he was comatose, half dead and missing an arm — because _Tony_ had let him fight. Because _Tony_ hadn’t benched him.

May spent most of her time in the room, sitting next to Peters bed and holding his left hand, watching him intently for any signs of consciousness.

In the little time the woman was away from Peter, she was tucked into the corner of the room, building a charity for those misplaced by the blip, with Pepper and Happys help.

She also spent a lot of time on the phone with someone called Carmen — her mother in law, she’d told Tony.

She barely slept anymore — and neither did Tony.

Because it was _his_ fault that Peter was in this situation. _He_ was meant to snap. _He_ was meant to be the one fighting for his life.

Not Peter. Never Peter.

He was always always in Peters room — not stealing Mays spot by his bed, but somewhere close by, trying to work. Tony felt useless, not being able to _do_ anything to help Peter, and so tried to distract himself with literally anything else.

Morgan was with him a lot. She, for all her genius, didn’t understand what was going on. She didn’t understand _why_ her brother was asleep all the time, or why he never woke when she tried to get him up, or why everyone was so sad all the time. She didn’t get what a coma was.

Pepper had tried to explain it to their daughter, but Tony could tell that the concept was too strange for her to grasp.

His wife was throwing herself into work — remotely, of course, because Tony refused to leave Wakanda, and so Morgan didn’t want to leave either. Rhodey had left after a few days, to help the airforce, as he had done after the first snap. Happy stayed around, helping May and Pepper however he could.

Everyone was doing something, except him. His work wasn’t even real work. It was meaningless distractions — and it didn’t take away his feeling of uselessness.

Tony was _terrified_ that the kid wouldn’t wake up. _Terrified._

He had always cared. From the second he knocked on the door of Peter and Mays apartment; from the moment he first Peter Parker — he’d known that if anything happened to the kid, it would be on hum. He’d known that he would do anything and everything in his power to protect him.

And he’d fucked that up at first, sure. But Peter was a hard person not to like, and pressure from his scary aunt definitely helped make lab days and training sessions a regular occurrence.

The revelation that he loved the kid had been gradual; forged through lab days and training sessions. Through overnight stays at the compound, and way, _way_ too many fatal wounds.

Thinking of Peter as his kid was something he had unintentionally done since they actually started to know each other. Since after the ferry incident and the plane crash and the Vulture. Realising that he dud that, though, hit him harder than Caps shield hit his chest — and yes, that wasn’t his best analogy, but it was true. Their strange mentor-mentee/father-son relationship had just been… how they were. A default state. Nothing more needed to be said about it.

They had both always gladly avoided the topic; Tony because of his issues with his own father, and his upbringing, and Peter because of his losses. His supposed curse with parental figures.

Realising that Peter had been the closest thing he had to a son — that he actually kind of _was_ his kid — had hit him when he first held Morgan; when he realised that the feeling of overwhelming love and protectiveness he felt when holding his newborn daughter want new or foreign to him.

Realising that he could never tell Peter that had split his heart in two.

Peter was his kid, biology and social norms be damned — _Son_ was a very strong word though; hence why he’d only ever referred to Peter as that _once._

In 1970. When he told a past version of his long-dead father that he had a teenage son, and a little girl.

After all, Tony had only started having dreams about Morgan _after_ he and Peter became close. That wasn’t a coincidence.

But… but realising that he couldn’t tell Peter all that was worse, this time. The second time round — because they didn’t _know_ if Peter would wake up, or if he would… _die._ Again.

It made Titan — a horrible experience that Tony still had constant nightmares about — that little bit worse. Because that _death_ had lead to this.

And both were Tonys fault. 

Tony glanced over at May from his spot on the opposite side of Peter, and saw that she had fallen asleep, resting her head on his bed, and still holding his remaining hand gently.

At least she was finally getting come rest.

It was day nine — since everyone came back. Since the battle. Since Peter snapped.

Since Nat died.

He missed her. A lot.

She had always been there. Even when she hadn’t, and she had still been on the run, she had been there, checking in on him as much as he could. When he was living, hiding Morgan and Pepper away from the horrors of the world in the cabin upstate, she had always visited for birthdays. For coffees. Whenever she felt the need to, really.

The blip had broken something in the woman, Tony had been able to tell. It had hurt everyone, but… but she had a lot of stress on her. She stepped up to be in charge of the Avengers when neither Tony nor Steve did. She lost her family — Bartons family. She watched her best friend turn into a murderer.

Tony had a feeling that more than the immediately obvious had been going on for her, too. The first December after the decimation, she had come to their house in the early hours of the morning, let him make her a tea, and then just cried. For a long, long time. Then she left.

Having her gone not only left a gaping hole in the team, but it left a lot of questions unanswered. With her gone, Steve and Tony had to step back up.

He sat through all of his conferences, for the team, the company, and the UN, in Peters room. He stayed there whenever he had to talk about Avengers business. He stayed there when he remotely guided the plans for the rebuilding of the compound.

The Avengers; his old found family, stuck around as much as possible. Nebula tried to stay as much as she could, too. She had seen his initial grief. She had visited him during the five years. They were friends now.

His phone started to ring, and Tony answered it as quickly as he could, not wanting to wake May. He glanced over, and saw that she was still asleep.

_“Tony,”_

It was Cap.

“Capsicle! Mister Patriarchy!” Tony stood, and quietly went to stand in the hallway, so that he didn’t accidentally wake May. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

_“Tony, we have a situation — at the compound. We need you.”_

Tony groaned, glancing back at the door to Peters room. He didn’t want to leave the kid. “What’s happening, Cap?”

_“We got a distress signal from Vormir.”_

Tonys mouth went dry, and he swallowed thickly. “From — from Vormir? Like —“

_“— Like Nat? We’re hoping so.”_

Holy fuck, Nat might be alive. Thank fuck. He missed her so much. “How?” He asked croakily.

_“I don’t know, Tony. We returned the stones yesterday… Strange’s saying that returning the soul stone shouldn’t be able to bring her back, so we don’t really know how she would be alive. I contacted Thor, and he’s going to get her now — with the bifrost.”_

Tony laughed slightly. “I thought you could do that now, Mister _worthy.”_

_“Shut up.”_

He leant on the wall. “So what do you need me for?”

_“Well… It’s more that we need you to get T’Challa’s permission for Thor to take her to Wakanda. We don’t exactly have rooms at the compound anymore, and she needs a place to go.”_

“If it is Nat.”

_“Yeah.”_

“Alright. I’ll go talk to the King. It should all be fine. Bye.” He hung up the phone before Steve good answer, and he took off down the hall.

He hadn’t seen the King all that much during their stay in Wakanda, and he wasn’t quite sure where he could find him, so he just ran. He just needed to find _someone_ that could lead him to T’Challa.

He eventually ran into Shuri, who was walking toward him. “Shuri!” He exclaimed. “Shuri, Shuri, hi, I — I need to talk to your brother — please.”

She tilted her head slightly, looking at him weirdly. “Well, I was going to ask you if you would like to help me build the broken white boy a new arm, but I can take you to see my brother.”

“What?”

“I was going to —“

“No, no, I know what you said, I’m just —“ He shook his head shook his head, slightly taken abackthat the princess wanted _his_ help. That he had the chance to do something _useful._ “— I — yeah, I’ll help. Just not today — I need to see T’Challa.”

Shuri raised her eyebrows. “Is just talking to him okay?”

Tony shrugged. “Sure.”

Shuri did something on the phone-like device that she held, and soon enough was holding up a hologram of King T’Challa.

_“Hello, sister. What do you want?”_

Shuri rolled her eyes. “I do not want anything, brother. Mister Stark wishes to speak to you.”

_“Stark?”_

“Yeah, hi.” Tony said quickly, stepping a bit closer to the princess so that the king could see him. “Uh — Thor wants permission to come into Wakanda at some point? Would that be okay?”

_“Yes, yes, Thor is allowed to come to Wakanda.”_

Shuri grinned. “Alright, gotta go! Thanks, T’Challa!” And hung up on him. She turned to Tony. “I’ll come visit Spider-Man with you — I need measurements for his arm.”

It was quite a few hours later that Natasha found Tony in Peters room, with Morgan curled up asleep by his side, and May passed out on one of the larger couches. One of the earlier seasons of Brooklyn Nine Nine was playing on the screen on the wall opposite Peters bed.

She entered he room silently, and leaned against the doorframe watching Tony. “Hey.” Was all she said.

“Triple Agent, it’s…” Tony trailed off and looked up at her, a small smile on his face. “It’s good to see you. We thought we lost you back there, and.. I missed you — we all did. Come in, by the way. We’ve got lots of chairs.”

Nat returned the smile, and made her way to sit on one of the couches closest to Peter. Her expression softened when she looked at the kid. “So. This is Spider-Man, then?”

Tony swallowed the lump that reappeared in his throat. “Yeah, that’s — that’s Peter.”

She looked over to May. “And that’s the aunt?”

“May, yeah.” Tony nodded.

“He’s the reason you agreed. Why you helped us bring everyone back.”

“Yes.”

Natasha looked at him for a moment, her face unreadable, before leaning her elbows on her knees, and putting her chin on her clasped hands. She sighed deeply. “He saved my life, you know. He’s the only reason that I’m here.”

Tony looked up abruptly at that. He wasn’t completely sure what Peter had asked the gauntlet to do — nobody knew, really.

Thanos had asked the stones to make half of all living beings cease to exist. Bruce had asked them to reverse the effects of Thanos’ request, bringing everyone back.

Up until that moment, they had all thought that Peter had just asked them to make Thanos and his army disappear, dust away like everyone had five years ago.

But, if that were the case, Nat would still be dead — still be left at the bottom of a cliff, nothing but a sacrifice on an alien planet… and yet here she was, even though it was meant to be impossible for her to come back.

Tony was glad that she wasn’t dead anymore. 

“He asked the stones to bring me back.” She kept talking, now staring somewhat blankly at the screen, to season two of Peters favourite show. “I fell, and everything just… stopped. There was nothing, and then I heard _him._ And he was asking them — the stones — to let me live, and I just — came to in a pool of water on Vormir, and came back to the present… then Thor got me. But it was _that kid_ that let me get here.”

Tony looked up, slightly surprise by the unadulterated _gratitude_ in his old friends voice. Her eyes were glassy with unshed tears. “I —“ He trailed off, not sure how to answer. “I didn’t realise he did that.”

Natasha looked back over at Peter, her face filled with an unreadable expression. She smiled, slightly sadly. “He reminds me of my sister.” She said offhandedly.

Tony didn’t know that Nat had a sister. “You have a sister?” He asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise.

Nat shook her head. “The sister he reminds me of died a long time ago. My other sister… doesn’t know that I’m alive yet.”

Tony opened his mouth to ask more about these _sisters_ but Nat just shook her head. She turned, and kept watching Brooklyn Nine Nine.

She made for good company — and it was good to have her back.

He had missed her. A lot.

He didn’t miss the way she kept glancing at Peter, lacking her usually subtleness, or the way she fiddled with the thin gold band around her wrist. He didn’t question it, though; he knew better than to try get personal information out of Natasha Romonoff.

“Okay.” Shuri grinned, and turned away from one of the metal tables in her lab, pulling up some holographic screens with arms and metals and all sorts of things displayed on them. “So, I have the measurements for his arm, and with the specs for Barnes’ arm, we can build it pretty easily.”

Tony nodded, letting her continue.

Her lab was very cool. Like, _very_ cool. It was as fancy as his — if not more — and some of the devices just floating around were _amazing._

“So… the issue is his powers.”

“What do you mean?” Tony asked.

“Well I already got Strange and Nezana to do a targeted nerve re-innervation when we first amputated the arm, so he’ll have control of the prosthetic. And obviously we’ll make it out of vibranium, because anything else is unacceptable.”

“Alright.” He nodded. “So what’s the issue?”

“His powers.” She said, and Tony nodded in agreement — he knew Peter felt like he _needed_ to save everyone, and if he couldn’t stick to things with one arm… that would make some issues. “We need to figure out a way to integrate his abilities into the prosthetic.”

“Fuck.” Tony murmured, dragging a hand down his face. “That’s gonna be hard.”

Shuri nodded in agreement. “I managed to do something similar with Bucky, but… it wasn’t easy. And his genealogy is a lot less complicated than Peters.”

This was going to be hard — but at least he was doing something useful now.

Ned was terrified when he returned to school, two weeks after he reappeared in his apartment — only to find all of his stuff gone, and his cousin (who looked much older than seven) sitting on his bed.

His parents hadn’t let him leave the house for two days after he came back from… wherever he’d been for five years — and when they finally did let him leave, he went straight to his best friends apartment.

Peter and May weren’t there — instead a different family was living in the apartment that had always belonged to the Parkers.

He’d tried calling both Peter and May repeatedly over the two weeks, but he never got any answers… and he was terrified that Peter was older now. That he was gone.

Over the weekend, he’d watched some of the new ‘catchup’ programs, that had been made for those than had ‘blipped’, as they were calling it.There were ones for everything — things that happened around the world, biggest events that happened during the _five years_ that people were gone, updates on celebrities… everything.

He found out through one of them, focused on the Avengers, that Spider-Man hadn’t made it.

So at least his best friend wasn’t like, twenty one now. That would be awful.

Ned looked up at Midtown Tech, and took a deep breath. All he had to do was get to home room. He just had to go to his home room, and find _someone_ that he used to know, that wasn’t born in 2006, and… figure something out.

He had to find Peter. Or MJ.

He was surprised, to say the least, when he ran into a very sad looking Flash Thompson on his way to the class.

Flash looked at him in surprise, and did a double take. _“Leeds?”_

Ned tried to smile. “Hey, Flash.” He said. “Good to, uh… see someone that I actually know.”

To his surprise, Flash pulled him into a hug, then quickly let go and cleared his throat. “I haven’t seen anyone else from our grade — from before.” Flash offered a short explanation for his weird behaviour. “And… I’m sorry, Leeds — that I was a dick. I just… I guess it took dying and coming back to life for me to realise that.”

Ned laughed. “I would’ve thought getting resurrected would give you a big head.” He joked.

Flash laughed, and they went to homeroom together.

Not many people that he knew before were still their age. MJ was still there — and Abe and Cindy from decathlon. Betty and Jason from the school news were still in their year, as well as two of the cheerleaders that he hadn’t ever really talked to, Ellie and Catelynn. Everyone else was either in their twenties, or moved schools because their families didn’t live in Queens anymore.

There were only nine of them left, and Peter was nowhere to be found.

Ned cried himself to sleep that night.

It was three days later that he got a rushed call from May, explaining everything.

That Peter was alive, but in a coma. That Peter lost an arm. That they were in Wakanda.

Ned cried some more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i mean he’ll be okay. 
> 
> Probably
> 
> maybe
> 
> idk, but i’ll stop being annoying and start on chapter four... have a nice time in the void y’all
> 
> ily <3000


	4. Chapter 4

* * *

**PART FOUR**

* * *

He heard voices, sometimes; a stark contrast to the blank world that he lived in.

There were a few of them.

There was the woman who spoke to him softly, telling him about people who’s names escaped him, and that he had to wake up, and that she loved him so, so much. She cried a lot.

Then there was the man with the deep voice, who usually spoke in hushed whispers when there was snoring around them. He would just beg him to wake up. Say that he was scaring everybody. Say that everything would be okay if he woke up. The man cried sometimes, too, but never as loud as the woman.

There were other voices, that came and went; the boy with the high voice. The business-like sounding lady. The woman who spoke quietly when nobody else was around.

And then, there was the little girl — the little girl that told him everything and anything, though he forgot most of it very quickly. Who always sounded happy and excited, and spoke with a sort of childish innocence that somehow drew him in.

The girl was talking to him now.

_“And Nebula is really, really, really really really, really cool. Daddy said she was with him when he was in space!”_

This time, there was something different about the voice. It felt more tangible than usual. Less distant.

_“And — and Natasha said that I could call her Auntie! Isn’t that awesome? She lets me call her Auntie Nat, like Cooper and Lila and Nate do!”_

And it came with pain, now. Pain all around him, throughout his entire body. He felt as though his skull was being torn in two, while someone repeatedly threw a bowling ball at him. His entire right side felt like it was submerged in liquid nitrogen; so hot that it felt horrifyingly, painfully cold.

His ears began to ring, so much that he felt like his whole body was shaking, and their noise started to drown out the sound of the little girl.

_“Mommy says that I’m not meant to be in here alone, because something bad might happen and I’m not a grown up, but she’s asleep, and Daddy said that she doesn’t need to find out, cause he’ll be back soon.”_

He felt bad for the little girl. She was so obviously young. So clearly upset… and he seemed to be the cause of it. Presumably, whatever had made her this upset was the reason he felt so much pain, _everywhere._

He couldn’t remember what it was that happened to him, though. And trying to remember was like trying to catch fog — irritating, pointless and impossible.

Well… he could remember things, sure. But only general things.

He could remember math, and vines, and the gleam of sun on city buildings. He could remember science, and TV, and movies. He could remember superheroes, and Spanish, and what a bagel was.

But he couldn’t remember _himself._ Who he was, what happened to him… anything. He couldn’t remember who the woman that cried was, or the man with the deep voice, or the little girl. He couldn’t remember how he know them.

He drew at straws for a while, wracking his brain for answers, but got nothing. He had no clue who he was.

A weight pressed against his left side, snuggling into him, and he assumed it was the little girl.

_“Daddy and Auntie May said not to tell Mommy that I go on your bed sometimes, so don’t tell her!”_

Was she his sister? A friend? A cousin or a niece? Who _was_ she?

Who was she to _him?_

The girl started laughing beside him, the sound light, happy and carefree. Her laughter was making her vibrate slightly by his side.

Peter opened his eyes.

It wasn’t like a stereotypical, ‘main character snaps open their eyes just when you think they’re going to die’ thing. It was difficult. His eyelids felt too heavy, and, once he finally managed to get them open, he had trouble not snapping them shut again from how blindingly bright the lights above him were. He managed to keep his eyes open, though, and glanced down to the little girl tucked into his left side.

The girl was small — she couldn’t be more than five. He had dark hair tied up in a messy bun on the top of her head, and was wearing a blue T-shirt that looked way too big for her. She was flicking through some sort of book — a photo album — and laughing at some of the pictures.

She was cuter than any kid he could ever remember seeing.

Moving proved to be harder than he had expected. Only his left side seemed to respond, and even then, it took all of his energy to move just a tiny bit. He was only able to lift his arm slightly, only to have it drop back down onto his stomach with a light ‘thud’.

The small noise was enough to grab the girls attention, and she sat bolt upright, spinning around and sitting crosslegged next to him, her eyes wide and in shock.

“Hey?” He said, with some difficulty. His voice was scratchy, and his throat was dry, the single word shaky and unsure.

Her expression of surprise turned to one of glee, and she broke into a grin, her eyes warm and excited. “Hey, Petey! You’re finally awake!”

 _Petey._ That must be his name.

He tested the name in his mind slightly, it sitting a bit strangely. _Petey._ It seemed… a bit off.

He — _Petey —_ supposed it was more of a nickname. His name was probably Peter.

 _Peter._ That sounded right. And it was a whole lot more than he knew before.

“Y — yeah. I guess I am.” He said, his throat protesting against the words as he struggled to get them out. “Is that — am I — _who am I?”_

The little girl laughed at him loudly, then tilted her head slightly to the side, watching him carefully. “You’re silly.” She said, the matter-of-factness in her voice surprising Peter a bit. “Daddy has always said that you’re an idiot…You’re Peter Parker, and you’re six — sixteen, and you’re my big brother.”

Huh. Alright. He had a sister — a tiny little baby sister, who he had absolutely no recollection of.

 _Shit,_ he couldn’t remember her name. He’d forgotten his own _sisters goddamn name._

Peter felt like an awful brother. He _forgot his sisters name._ He _sucked._ And now, he had to tell her that he couldn’t _remember her._ He cleared his throat, and his sister looked at him expectantly. “Uh, is there like… something that can make this bed sit up or, uh… something? Like that?”

She nodded her head energetically, pressing a button on a small remote, which made his bed incline slowly, moving him into a sitting position. His sister put the remote back down on the small table next to the bed, grinning at him.

Peter coughed slightly. “I uh… look, I’m — I’m really, _really_ sorry, but… I can’t remember your name…” He spoke carefully, watching the little girls expression carefully as she processed his words.

_Please don’t be upset. Please don’t be upset. Please don’t cry. Please —_

“That’s okay!” She said, surprisingly unbothered. Peter sighed in relief. “Daddy said that you might not know when you woke up. I’m Morgan, and I’m four!”

Peter grinned at Morgan, and tried to reach his arms out to her… but only one arm responded. He looked down to his right, and —

— _oh._

He only had one arm — his right shoulder ended in a slightly reddened stump. He was an amputee.

Peter didn’t know how to react to that. He… he could tell that he must have had an arm, once, but… but he wasn’t sure if that’s why he had been unconscious, or if he’d been an amputee for a while. It was slightly shocking, but… but. He didn’t have any reason to be overly worried about it’s absence. It was a bit jarring, but nothing more.

It was a bit weird, but he didn’t feel the need to react too much — because he didn’t want to _over_ react.

Morgan seemed to notice his hesitation, as he had become fixated on the stump where an arm should be, but she took the cue from his outstretched eft arm, barrelling into him and squeezing him tightly around he middle. She buried he head in hid shoulder, and he wrapped his one arm around her.

That was nice. It was nice.

“I really missed you, Peter.” She mumbled, turning her head slightly to look up at him. “I missed you heaps and heaps and heaps! You were gone so, so _long,_ and it made Daddy and Mommy really sad… and then Auntie May came back, and you were hurt, and —“ She cut herself off by hugging him tighter.

Peter didn’t know what had happened, but it sounded confusing — and bad. He felt bad. “I’m sorry.” He said immediately, as a bit of a knee-jerk reaction. “I’m sorry that you had to miss me. And that I got hurt, and made mom and dad and Aunt May sad.”

Morgan disentangled herself from him, and grinned at him. “It’s alright! It’s not your fault! Daddy said you’re stupid, and a little shit, and that you shouldn’t have done what you did, but Mommy and Auntie May said that it was brave of you and that you’re a hero! Auntie May said that Daddy is being an idiot, because you’re gonna be fine, and that the thing that you did saved heaps and heaps of people! They won’t tell me what you did, but I think it was really big!”

_What in the hell had he done?_

The need to figure out exactly what had gotten him in this position was eating Peter up inside. The complete confusion concerning his identity, and what had happen, now added with the question of what the hell he’d done was stressing him out a _lot._

He cleared his throat again, and tried to smile as he looked back at his sister. “I’m sorry that I… _can’t remember._ Could you… could you show me the album you were looking at before?”

Morgan was more than happy to show him the album. It was made about year before she was born, she said, which confused Peter quite a lot, because she was twelve years younger than him... and he definitely looked older than twelve on the pictures.

She seemed perfectly content as she flicked through the pages, though, pointing out _‘Auntie May, Uncle Happy, Uncle Rhodey, Mommy and Daddy’_ in every picture they were in, definitely none the wiser to the fact that there was definitely something wrong with his age in the album.

Looking at the pictures helped a bit — helped Peter see tiny flickers of memories.

With photos of Aunt May came the smell of burning food. The feel of a worn and threadbare couch. The image of a comfortable, homey apartment. Dad brought images of blue-tinged holograms, with the sound of loud rock music, and the smell of _very_ strong coffee.

They seemed to trigger the most memories. Uncle Rhodey reminded him of Hot Cheetos, and a strange mechanical whirring noise. Uncle Happy reminded him of cars, and a divider repeatedly rising between them. Mom made him see the woman standing, holding a brook like a weapon for a moment.

But that was all he could really remember. Tiny little snippets.

It took Peter barely five minutes to realise for sure how much he loved his sister. To know that he would do literally anything for her; to protect her. She was his sister, after all, and right now she was the one thing that brought him a sense of comfort. The small flashes of memories only brought him confusion and unease, not seeming tangible enough for him to really believe that they were real… but _Morgan_ was definitely real.

She was here, talking to him, laughing at him, telling him the entire plot of some plot called Tangled to him.

She was real. She was his sister. Peter loved her. He would protect her at all costs.

“— and _then_ they go back to the castle,” His sister kept explaining to him. “And Rapunzel meets her Mommy and Daddy again, and they all hug, and so does Eugene!”

 _Eugene._ That sparked some memory — of something to do with _Flash…_ which made him think _Ned._ He wasn’t sure _why_ that was his train of thought, though.

“I think it’ll be like that when Mommy and Daddy and Auntie May find out you’re awake!” She exclaimed. “Nebula told me that it has been _six Earth weeks_ since you fell asleep, and everyone’s been waiting for you to wake up!”

Holy shit, that was a long fucking time. _Six weeks._

“Oh.” Was all he managed to choke out. “ _Oh.”_

Morgan nodded, and her voice became very quiet. Her bottom lip quivered as she spoke. “It was _scary,_ when you were in the coma. Daddy was really angry at the Wizard Doctor man, and Auntie May just cried at _everything,_ and Mommy says that neither of them ever sleep —“

“Hey.” Peter said softly, wrapping her in another hug before she could start to cry. “It’s okay now, right? I’m okay, I’m awake, and we can go home soon, and we can kick the Wizard Doctor man’s ass for dad, hey?”

Morgan nodded, and he grinned, releasing her. “Where are we, anyway, because i’m pretty sure we’re american, and this sure as hell doesn’t look like a normal american hospital.”

“It’s not, silly!” She giggled, looking at him with an almost exasperated look. An image of their mom with the same expression on her face came to Peters mind, but disappeared as Morgan kept talking. “We’re in Wakanda! Daddy and Doctor Strange the Wizard and Doctor Banner and King T’Challa and Princess Shuri brought you here!”

Okay, that was weird, Peter had to admit. Wakanda wasn’t somewhere that any ordinary person could just go to, just because. And the King and Princess being involved in his recovery? That must mean he’s a pretty important person.

If they really were involved, there was no way he was normal.

“Wakanda? Like in Africa? And the King and Princess brought me here? As in the King that is _literally_ an _Avenger?”_

_What did it mean if he wasn’t normal?_

“I think so? Mommy won’t tell me everything, and I asked Auntie Nat but she says she wasn’t there when you came here.”

How did finding out about the possibility of him being from an important family feel like a betrayal, of some sort?

“O-oh. Okay. I think that you should, maybe, probably...” He gulped. This realisation, was, admittedly, freaking him out a bit — _and why the heck could he hear his heart beating? And Morgan’s heart beating?_ “Probably tell, like, a doctor, or something, that i’m — that i’m awake, yknow? I think that —“

He stopped when the door opened, and squeezed his eyes shut from all the beating noises, covering an ear with his one hand when he realised that he could hear another heart beat that was actually inside the room.

And it was kind of terrifying that he could distinguish a heart beat inside the room from one outside.

Scratch that — _definitely_ terrifying.

There was the sound of something smashing on the floor, and the third heartbeat sped up considerably.

Peter open his eyes again, flinching at the brightness of the room once again, and focusing on the man that had just entered.

It was their dad.

He knew immediately, but Morgan’s shout of, “Daddy, look! Petey woke up!” confirmed it for him.

“Hey..” He said, hoping his voice was loud enough for dad to hear. “It’s ya boy.”

Peter was very thankful that he remembered pop culture, and for a second, he wasn’t in the Wakandan hospital room — he was some sort of grey... engine room? He wasn’t quite sure, but he was there, and his dad, who looked quite irritated, said, _‘I don’t want another, single pop culture reference from you for the rest of the trip, for it?'_

And then he was back in the bed, and his dad was staring at him in shock and amazement, rather than irritation, and murmured one word.

It was only one word, but it seemed to take his dad a lot of courage and effort to say it.

_“Peter?”_

His dad stared at him, a strange mixture of shock and amazement on his face. He slowly made his may to Peters bedside, placing an alarm on his good shoulder and smiling at him in a pained sort of way for a moment, before pulling him into a tight embrace. It was nice, hugging his dad.

The man seemed reluctant to release him, but Peter understood that his dad would probably be having some misgivings about letting go — after all, he’d been in a fucking _coma_ for a month and a half.

“Wow, Pete, you’re — you woke up!” There was amazement laced in his dads voice, as though Peters waking up was some sort of miracle.

Maybe it was. He still didn’t know.

Maybe that was why he could hear every fucking person in the building before. Maybe that was why everything was almost silent now — eerily silent.

There was no way he could he possibly know, though.

“Yeah. Right. Well, uh, welcome back to the world of the living, kid. ‘Course you had to wait until after I went to get for Life Juice to do that.” The older man patted his shoulder again, now grinning.

Peter felt himself laughing at that. “Life — Life Juice...”

“I swear to god, kid. You’ve been awake what, twenty minutes? Thirty? You don’t need to start being judgemental of my caffeine consumption already.”

“Yeah, whatever Dad.”

Peter was, at that point, too exhausted and in too much pain to notice the look of surprise that adorned his dads face at that. To notice that the man had the expression wiped off his face before either Peter or Morgan could realise it was there.

“Alright kid, enough with the personal attacks.” His dad replied with laughter, though there was still some hesitation lingering in his tone. “I’ve got strict instructions to call Strange if anything changes in your — well, if you wake up.”

“Then I guess we gotta call Strange? Morgan and I are gonna kick his ass, aren’t we?”

“Yeah!” Morgan exclaimed from the end of the bed, nodding enthusiastically.

Their dad shook his head at her in amusement, before lifting her up off the bed and sitting on the chair beside it, Morgan on his lap. “Yeah, well he won’t be too happy if he knows alpha female here was jumping all over your bed.”

Peter scoffed, and Morgan giggled. “Well, Petey and I will still beat his ass!”

“Nuh-uh. No saying the ass word, Maguna. Why do you guys wanna attack Strange anyway? I mean...”

Peter shrugged, and tried to break the news of… the _situation_ to his father in the most casual way he could. “I honestly have no clue. Can’t remember a thing.”

This time, Peter did notice the shock on his dads frozen face — even though, once again, he put up a mask before his shock became overly evident. “You can’t remember a thing? Like you don’t know what happened before you went out, or...”

His dad trailed off, and looked at him expectantly, and Peter shrugged. He didn’t really know how to answer that. “I, uh... yeah. _That.”_ He shrugged again. “I got — I got nothing. Nada. No clue at all.”

Peter heard his dads heartbeat speed up drastically at that, interrupting the previous silence in the background of their conversation. He heard how his breaths became slightly shorter as he took in the news.

Morgan just looked between the two of them, quite obviously confused, but Peter was concentrated on their dad.

_“Fuck.”_

Peter couldn’t help but scoff as Morgan whipped her head around to stare at their dad teasingly at the swear word, and so he decided to help his sister in her efforts. “Watch yo profanity!”

“Jesus Christ!” Their dad muttered under his breath, rubbing an exhausted hand down his face. “Even... amnesia? — _Jesus Christ, you have amnesia —_ can’t stop your damn pop culture, can it? _Shit!_ ”

His dad either didn’t realise how loud everything was for Peter — how he could hear absolutely everything, right down to the electricity running through the machines he was hooked up to — or he really just didn’t care if Peter and Morgan heard.

It was pretty obvious that Morgan didn’t hear, though... and Peter couldn’t help but look at his dad guiltily, once again wondering what he had done to get here.

“I’m sorry” Peter mumbled automatically, looking his dad right in the eyes. “I’m sorry for whatever I did to cause this, and for forgetting. I’m sorry —“

“Stop.” His dad interrupted, holding up a hand to silence him. “Stop apologising, kid. God this is some serious déjà vu. You have nothing to apologise for, alright? I’m — I’m proud of you, Pete… but I _cannot_ deal with you _apologising_ right now, I just — I need you to know that you did something _very_ stupid, but it’s still made me proud.”

“But I don’t know _why_ , dad!” Peter said loudly, and his dad didn’t even try to hide his flinch.

That was kind of confusing — it wasn’t like he was yelling and screaming, so why did his father react like _that?_ Why did everything seem so _weird?_

Morgan was still staring between the two of them, confused, when their dad sighed, and stood up, picking up the four year old. “Not while Morgan’s here, okay kid? I’ll put her to bed, and then we can talk about all of this. Alright?”

“Okay — got it” Peter replied, as his dad silently left, carrying Peters little sister away on his hip.

This was all just fucked up.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I would, once again, like to apologise for the continual pain i am putting this poor family though — just to recap; snap, loosing an arm, coma, and now, aMnEsiA
> 
> Sorry.
> 
> But, we got some nice Peter and Morgan, so that fun.
> 
> Honestly it wouldn’t have been as good next chapter if it had been anyone else there when he woke up, so Morgan it is :)
> 
> See y’all in chapter five, i guess (hehe more shits gonna hit the fan)
> 
> ByE LoVe YaLl


	5. Chapter 5

* * *

**PART FIVE**

* * *

Peter was only left alone for a few minutes, in which he picked up Morgans photo album and kept flicking through it mindlessly. His dad came back into the room within minutes, and sat back down on the chair next to the bed, leaning his chin heavily on his clasped hands and studying Peter carefully.

They sat in an awkward silence for a minute, before his dad sighed loudly, then leant back in the chair, and wiped a hand down his face tiredly. “Holy shit.” He whispered, looking at Peter worriedly. “I can’t believe — holy fuck.”

Peter frowned momentarily. “Sor—“

“Stop.” His dad shook his head. “No apologising. You’re not allowed to do that anymore. Just — just… can you tell me what you _do_ remember.”

He shrugged slightly. “I, uh — I —“ Peter attempted to speak, and instead found himself mumbling uselessly. He cleared his throat, and tried again. “I remember… _stuff._ Just not about… _me —_ I mean, I know a little bit now, but only because Morgan was showing me the album, and telling he stuff.”

“Shit.” His dad muttered again. “Shit — what did she tell you?”

His dads worry about what Morgan had told him confused Peter a bit, and only added to his seemingly ever-growing list of questions. He cleared his throat quietly. “Uh — just like… my name, and how old I am and stuff, and like —“

“And how old are you?”

“Morgan said I’m sixteen.” Peter tore his gaze away from his dad, and stared at his one hand instead. “That’s right, right? Like I _am_ sixteen? Cause, I mean, she’s four, so maybe she got the number wrong but…”

“Yeah.” The mans face relaxed significantly, and he nodded slightly. “Yeah, you’re sixteen. Seventeen in August. What else?”

“Right, yeah, amnesia. She told me who all you guys were by like, showing me the photos and putting faces to names, so that helped a bit. And she told me that we’re in Wakanda — which is _crazy_ , by the way, like, _Wakanda!_ How are we in _Wakanda?_ Because it’s like… exclusive! Like, people don’t just _go_ to _Wakanda!”_

His dad looked at him with raised eyebrows, his expression amused and slightly exasperated. He stopped his rambling. “Sorry, it’s — it’s just really, really cool. And like… she said that we’re in Wakanda because I did something stupid and got hurt from it? I dunno, she said nobody was really telling her anything, so I don’t really know what’s going on. But like… she said that the King — who’s an Avenger, right? — well she said he was one of the ones that brought me here! Like… how do we know a king that’s also a superhero?”

His dads slight smile dropped, and his head whipped up quite suddenly, eyebrows furrowing together. “You — you don’t _remember._ ” The older man shook his head slightly. “I mean, obviously you won’t remember if you have amnesia, but… but you seem to know that T’Challa’s an Avenger, and —“ He laughed quietly. “— kid, I’m basically the beginning of all that. _Iron Man?_ You might’ve heard of him? — well, I’m him. He’s me. I am Iron Man.”

“Shit.” Peter said after a moments hesitation. He ignored the fact that everything suddenly felt _way_ too bright, and seemed to get more bright every time he blinked. And ignored the growing ache in the back of his head. “Holy _shit,_ my dad is an Avenger — Iron Man is my fucking _dad!_ My _dad_ is _Iron Man!”_

His dad groaned loudly, dropping his head into his hands for a moment, before lifting his head again and standing up. “I’ve gotta talk to Strange for a moment — he’s only two doors down, so I’ll be back soon. Be right back — BRB — whatever it is that you youngsters say these days.”

Peter nodded, but the small action made the pain in the back of his head worsen — spread. It felt like his head was being torn apart. He could hear his dads quick, slightly uneven heartbeat getting slightly further away, and yet still staying really loud. He could hear the buzzing of the machines in his room.

There were noises absolutely _everywhere._

Someone — a man, by the deepness of the occasional curses coming from the person — was coughing deeply a few hallways away. There was a heavy knock on a wall, quite far a way, but the sound was no less loud. He could hear the liquid flowing through the tubes attached to him.

His ears were ringing like crazy, and everything was _still_ way too bright. Way too much.

There was too much light. Too much sound.

Peter could hear his dads voice a few rooms away, talking to what sounded like another man. Their conversation was just one in dozens that he could hear. One noise amongst the thousands that were assaulting his ears. It was hard to concentrate on just the one thing, but he tried to zero in on what his dad was saying. To decipher the conversation.

_“— was there when he woke up, so she told him that she was his sister, and so now he —“_

The light became too painful to look at anymore, and Peter squeezed his eyes shut almost to the point of the strength he was keeping them together hurting him.

Someone else was coughing. There were papers shuffling. Someone clicking a pen — he needed to concentrate on his dad, god damnit!

_“— all due respect, Stark, we should’ve expected something like this. The trauma was —”_

Peter could feel the vibrations caused by the machines in the air. He could feel the heat waves radiating from the light next to his bed. Could smell the strong chemicals of the hospital.

Trauma. Trauma. Trauma — _what was the trauma?_

His dad was yelling. The Doctor sounded very irritated. Someone was thrashing around in their sleep.

_“— course I’m not going to do that, Strange! Pete thinks that I’m his actual dad — I can’t tell him that I’m not! That would absolutely —”_

What the fuck?

His dad… his dad wasn’t his dad — his dad wasn’t his fucking _dad!_

Was it all a lit? Was Morgan even his sister? Were all the people in her photo actually his family? Was any of this even _real?_

Maybe he was just having a really, really bad dream. Maybe he was just… having strange visions. Because… because why would they lie about who Peters dad was? Why couldn’t this guy just be his stupid goddamned father?

Why were they acting like they were his family if they weren’t? What sort of weird prank was that?

He could feel _everything —_ and his inner crisis was _not_ helping. At all. His senses were going into overdrive, everything hurt. The sheets covering him became scratchy, as though he could feel every single stitch, every weave, every thread, that made them. The noise around him became even louder, even more intense. It became so loud that it became nothing more than never-ending, high pitched wail. The light invaded his eyes, despite them being closed.

He could feel every vibration, from the steps in the hallway, to a machine a few floors above him. The smell was a terrible mixture of all the worst things. Antiseptic, sanitiser, hospital gloves. Sweat, blood and old coffee. Salt, cooked vegetables and metal.

_Everything._

Peter couldn’t _handle it._ He was in Wakanda. His dad and his sister weren’t actually his dad and sister. He was sensing things that should have been impossible to sense. Everything was wrong. Nothing made sense.

He curled onto one side, squishing his right ear into his pillow, and clamping his one hand over his left, in an attempt to stop the noise.

_It didn’t stop the noise._

Instead, the noise only grew. He opened his mouth to try yell. Cry. Anything. But he couldn’t. No noise came out.

The ringing in his ears increased. It grew and spread until it was merging with the pain in the back of his head, joining to create a sharp, throbbing ache. Like his skull was being ripped apart.

He tried to test out the pain a little bit — took his hand off his ear for a second, just to see if anything changed. It didn’t really; he felt just as shit. He still felt fucking terrible.

Moments blurred together, and he started to miss out on whole minutes; his sight an hearing and _everything_ cutting out for a while, until it all came charging back, bringing him back to his consciousness.

He was curled up on the bed, then he was stumbling toward to wall. He was clinging to the wall, and then he was _stuck_ to the _ceiling._

He was _stuck_ to the fucking _ceiling._

And then he was on the ground again, on his hands and knees, fucking panicking. A fucking _lot_. His _dad_ wasn’t his _dad_ , his _sister_ wasn’t his _sister,_ he could _stick_ to _ceilings_ and he was fucking _panicking…_ and _now,_ he was stuck to the _floor._

He was stuck. Completely stuck. So much so that he couldn’t movie his hand at all. He yanked at his arms desperately, trying to free his hand — trying to _escape._

But he couldn’t. He was well and truly _stuck._ He couldn’t move his hand. It would not budge.

His senses blacked out again. He lost a few seconds in there, and then everything came back with blinding, horrifying intensity.

Something must have happened in his momentary brain absence, because when he came back into full consciousness he realised that he was slumped back against the wall, a huge chunk of concrete stuck to his one hand — and a small hole in the floor.

… so. It _seemed_ that he had… _superpowers._

_What. The. Fuck._

Peter stared at the concrete stuck to his left hand, his vision blurry, shaking and swimming, all at the same time. There was still too much light around him; too much stimulation. He started to slip sideways, his sight becoming fuzzy, like he was going to pass out. A sharp stab of blinding pain forced itself through his skull, and the feeling only stopped when he picked up on the soft ‘click’ of the door opening.

He could hear his heartbeat. He could hear his heavy beating. He could hear the panicked heartbeat and breathing of the person entering the room — presumably his _not-_ dad.

For a second — just a split second — he was somewhere else. On a bed, in a well lit room, with his _not-_ dad giving him a look somewhere in between a grin and a glare.

Then, he was back, his moment of peace gone.

The newcomer placed a calming hand on his shoulder, whispering warm words to him. A rough hand made its way to his head, running through his hair comfortingly.

“Shh,” His _not-_ dad whispered. “It’s okay, Pete. You’re okay. Just take deep breaths, okay? Deep breaths.”

Peter half nodded, and followed the deep breathing of his _not-_ dad.

Peter saw a memory again when he closed his eyes; somewhere red, orange and dusty. It looked like a desert, but with some sort of destroyed… _something._ A destroyed building or something. His _not-_ dad was there — and so was a blue robot, but he was _not_ going to dwell on that little fact right then. His _not-_ dad, in his memory — the one with the Iron Man suit and the glowing arc reactor — opened his mouth to speak. “You’re alright. It’ll be alright.”

Peter snapped his eyes opened, and realised that it wasn’t the _not-_ dad in his _memory_ that spoke, but the one in front of him, who was holding him close, and rocking them both back a forward slowly. “I’m sorry, buddy,” He mumbled. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry that I let May go to her other room, _tonight,_ of all nights. I’m sorry you’re going through this right now, I’m —“

“If you say sorry one more time,” Peter breathed out, looking up at the man. “I’m gonna have to whack you.”

He wasn’t sure what the importance of that sentence was, but it felt significant, somehow. Like it was connected to a memory that he couldn’t quite reach.

The man laughed quietly, shaking his head a little. “Okay, kid, calm down. You think you can make it back to the bed?”

Peter nodded, and his _not-_ dad helped him up, leading him across to the bed, and covering him back up with the blankets once he was back up. The man sat back down of the same chair as earlier, and let out a soft sigh. “Okay. I spoke to Strange, and he said that your memories have to come back naturally, but I can help you out a bit — and I’m sure you’ve figured out that there’s something _up_ with you, since whatever happened with the floor there…” He gestured to the hole in the floor vaguely. “You’ll have questions, and I’m happy to answer them — so hit me.”

Peter stared at him for a solid ten seconds before he answered, his carefully chosen words barely over a whisper. “Did we go to space together?”

Tony froze. The kid obviously didn’t know the weight that those words held. He couldn’t remember Titan, or Thanos, or _anything._

But for _Tony,_ space meant the terror he felt when Strange gave Thanos the time stone. It meant watching Peter turn to dust. It meant slowly wasting away in space, and the thing that had killed Nat, before she came back.

Space was one of his recurring nightmares; repeatedly watching Peter _die,_ which then turned to Morgan and Pepper dying — and then flipped back to Peter almost dying again. Snapping.

But right now, he couldn’t freak out. Peter was confused, and almost definitely afraid. Tony couldn’t even begin to imagine all the thoughts racing through the kids mind at that moment — he didn’t need to add the turmoil of space to the kids’ confusion.

Discovering that you has spider powers was one thing, and finding out that you were a bedridden, one armed was another — both sucked. Tony telling Peter that he had died in space wouldn’t help either of them.

So he resisted the complete panic that gripped him when Peter said those words distracting himself from his unresolved issues by tuning all of his attention to the kid. His kid.

His kid, who was looking up at him, his face slightly screwed up in confusion. “I mean... maybe we were in a desert? But it doesn’t look quite right... Is that why my arm is — gone? Because I had one in those photos and—“

Tony unintentionally made a loud choked sobbing sound, which effectively cut off Peters ramble. “Sorry, Pete, I just —“ He trailed off, unsure of how to answer, and so just kept running his fingers through the kids’ messy hair instead.

He wasn’t really sure how to handle the whole _‘Peter had amnesia’_ thing — and much less the _‘Peter thinks I’m his real dad’_ thing. He should have felt gratitude and amazement that the kid was finally awake and responsive. Alive.

But it just wasn’t comprehending how messed up Peter really was right now. The kid _always_ made it out basically unscathed, after the necessary surgeries. He always woke up to be fine — never with amnesia, nor with a missing arm.

Peters worse injuries would always end the same way — with short, whispered fights about how Peter needed to look after himself more, and not just run headlong into danger. Always in the MedBay, with Tony sitting in a chair next to Peters bed, and a very irritated Peter trying to insist that _‘Mister Stark, I’m fine, it was just a broken leg! I can just go back to school tomorrow — I don’t need a cast!”_

During the weeks that Peter had been comatose, Tony gad taken his anger out of Strange — a man who _knew_ that it would be a fucking _sixteen year old_ kid that saved the universe, and didn’t seem sorry for the result of that at all.

Right at the beginning, Strange had said that the coma was likely a result of Peters healing factor working in a sort of reverse, meaning that it took his body longer than it should have to fully react to the trauma — which ended in brain swell A coma.

Then, just five minutes ago, the wizard had added that the stones power, added with the brain swell and inconsistencies in the hippocampus, must have led to _Retrograde Amnesia._

Tony swallowed the rising lump in his throat, and looked at the expression on the kid’s face — the _‘I just woke up in the MedBay and I don’t really know what happened but I’m too scared to ask because I know I’m in for a little yelling at right now’_ face. One that Tony hadn’t seen in more than five years.

“Yeah.” He managed to say quietly. “Yeah, we — we went to space. It was an Avengers thing.”

Peter raised his eyebrows, evidently not completely following — or not seeing _why_ he had gone to space — and Tony groaned quietly. “You’re an Avenger like me. Spider-Man. You… You’ve got powers — that’s how you stuck to the floor just now.”

Peter seemed to contemplate something, but he didn’t seem overly surprised about the _‘I have powers’_ situation. He was a smart kid; he would have figured it out by now. The kid stared at him, and Tony could tell he was having an internal debate about something. Then, he spoke, seemingly making his mind up. “You’re not actually my dad, are you?”

Tony shouldn’t have been surprised that the kid figured that out, too — after all, his fancy senses probably meant that he could hear Tony talking to the Wizard — but hearing it said so plainly still surprised him. They’d both always avoided talking about their relationship, no matter how much Rhodey teased Tony about being dad-like… so it was still a bit weird to hear.

“Are you?” Peters voice had weakened slightly, becoming shakier, and unsure. As though the possibility that Tony _wasn’t_ his dad was hurting him, somehow.

Tony wished he could know what Peter was thinking.

He wiped a hand down his face, as he often found himself doing when he was stressed, and made a probably very sad attempt at an encouraging smile. It probably looked more like a pained grinch though; that was how it felt. “No, kid. I’m not.”

He found the words surprisingly hard to say, considering the fact that Peter wasn’t _actually_ his son. He was his kid, but not his son… but saying those words still hurt.

 _Shit —_ how was he meant to explain Peters parents? And Ben Parker? Loosing all of them had been hard enough on Peter already, but having to find out again would be terrible. 

Peters expression became strained, and shifted away slightly when Tony went to brush stray hairs off of his forehead.

“I’m sorry.” Tony murmured, taking his hand off the kids shoulder gently. “Im so sorry, kid.”

When Peter looked back up at him, there were tears in his eyes. “I — who are you to me, then?” The kid asked shakily. “Because if your not my dad, that means Morgan isn’t my sister, and that means that her mom isn’t my mom, and that Aunt May and Uncle Happy and Uncle Rhodey aren’t my aunt and uncles, and that — that means that I don’t have _anybody.”_

Tony felt an overwhelming surge of pity grow in him. “Hey, hey, kid, no,” He said, keeping his voice soft. “I’m — I may not be your dad, and I’m not your biological dad, but… but we’re close. I’m more of a mentor slash high profile babysitter. And May is only Morgans aunt because she’s your aunt. And Morgan calls you her brother because she’s always loved you like one, even though you’re not related to her.” Peter relaxed significantly, and so Tony kept talking. “And Happy and Rhodey… well, they’re meant to be _my_ best friends, but they like you more than me.”

Peter nodded slightly, some hope returning to his features. “So May’s my actual aunt, then?”

“Yeah.” Tony nodded. “Loved you more than literally anything — the second she finds out that you woke up she’s gonna come and suffocate you with her hugs… like seriously, be warned. She’s a strong hugger.”

Peter laughed softly, then looked down at his hand. “So I’m guessing I don’t have parents?”

Tony frowned. “I’m sorry, bud.” He said sincerely. “It — it was a long time ago. I didn’t know you back then, but I know they loved you a lot. So much.”

Peter nodded, slightly stiffly. “So what do I call you, then? Cause I’m guessing I don’t go around calling you _Iron Man_ constantly.”

Tony laughed. _This kid._ “You’ve always called me Mister Stark — I’ve told you to call me Tony, but you refuse to. It’s annoying. Very annoying. Please, kid, for the sake of my sanity, call me _Tony.”_

The kid grinned. “Okay, Mister Stark.”

_‘Mister Stark? I don’t feel so good…’_

Tony pushed the memory, instead looking at Peter — assuring himself that the kid was there. Was alive. A bit worse for wear, sure, but _alive._ He covered his (horrifyingly mushy) expression with his signature smirk. _“You,_ Mister Parker, are a little shit. I mean, the amnesia alone has taken ten years off my life expectancy, turned all my hair grey from worry, and you have the _audacity_ to not try help me keep my sanity —“

“You sure the grey hair isn’t just old age, Mister Stark?”

“Zip it, kid. You’re on thin fucking ice.”

Peter laughed. “I see you’re a man of culture.”

Tony rolled his eyes. “Obviously. What else would I be?”

“Old?”

“ _Thin fucking ice.”_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> haha guess who’s sick and so is updating in the early afternoon rather than hellishly early in the morning :)
> 
> enjoy, my dudes
> 
> ***UPDATE*** so, first, to everyone who started reding when i started editing, this wouldve seemed really mismatched and choppy and for that I apologise 
> 
> and second, the update for never tear us apart is in the works (i promise) but the time i usually spend writing that was used on updating this so... i apologise

* * *

**PART SIX**

* * *

Peter wished that he could remember more of his life than just a few moments that he couldn’t even place. He wished that he knew _exactly_ what he did, and _why_ whatever accident he’d been in (was it something to do with being an Avenger? Because that in itself was crazy) warranted the loss of his right arm.

He wished that he could actually remember whole memories, about Mister Stark and May and Morgan. With Miss Potts (who Mister Stark had explained was his wife, and the CEO of his huge ass tech company) and Rhodey and Happy, and… whoever else there was that he couldn’t remember.

It was very disconcerting; being alone in his hospital room, with absolutely nothing to distract him from the fact that he couldn’t remember anything _solid_ about himself.

Mister Stark had left him with his bed pushed back down to a laying position, and the light on his bedside table off. Peter had since put the bed back up, and turned the light back on — so that he could see the wall that he was staring at in better clarity.

The wall wasn’t very interesting, and neither was the emptiness in his brain — trying to find something interesting in both was seeming increasingly pointless as the minutes ticked on, without further memories, nor anything more than the slightly uneven with paint on the wall.

Peter wasn’t sure how long it was, before his mind became _slightly_ less blank — and he remembered something.

It was cold, in his memory, and there wasn’t much sound around. In front of him, writing out some sort of list, was a woman with long brown hair, and roundish glasses — his Aunt May.

_“Auntie May?”_

The voice seemed to be coming from _him,_ despite the fact that he didn’t actually speak. May looked up from what she was doing, placing her pen down and smiling at him. _“Yeah, Petey?”_

_“Can you please tell me a story?”_

Mays smile softened, and she stood from the couch where she was sitting, and grabbed what Peter assumed was the hand of memory-him. _“You want a story, Huh?”_ She paused. _“Well, my stories aren’t anywhere near as good as your Uncle Bens stories, but I’m sure we can figure something out, yeah?”_

Peter stared at the wall in front of him again, letting the memory fade into the back of his mind again — just not so far back that he became unable to recall it again.

_Uncle Ben._

Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben, Uncle Ben. He _knew_ Uncle Ben. He _knew_ that he knew Uncle Ben, and that… that Uncle Ben was important in a number of ways, but he just… couldn’t _remember_. He narrowed his eyes, trying to force himself to remember more — which was partially successful.

_“Peter!”_

Memory-him hummed softly in response, and the man sitting across from him, with the short brown hair and the green jacket on, grinned.

 _“You will never,_ ever _guess what I managed to do!”_

Memory-Peter looked up in interest. _“What?”_

_“So you know my buddy Sarge?”_

_“Sarge from work?”_

_“Yeah!”_ The man, who Peter assumed to be Uncle Ben nodded enthusiastically. _“Well, Sarge’s son just started a job at Stark Industries, and so Sarge gave us… These!”_ He brought out three fancy looking tickets, with **2010 STARK EXPO** written on them in bold letters. Memory-him let out a delighted squeal.

 _“Oh my god! Uncle Ben — this is — this is awesome! Wait til I tell Ned, Uncle Ben, he’s gonna absolutely_ freak! _Thank you so, so, so-so-so-so much! Thank you!”_

 _Uncle Ben._ His dads brother, Peter vaguely remembered — the reason that May was his Aunt. _Uncle Ben._ The man that had raised him, along with Aunt May, since he was five years old.

Uncle Ben, who opened a whole new avenue of memories that Peter had forgotten that he had forgot. Birthdays and Christmases. An old woman — _Geraldine Parker,_ his conscience supplies, _his grandmother —_ sitting in the small apartment with Peter and his aunt and uncle. Bens cop stories, and Peters insistence that he wear his NYPD badge like they did on Brooklyn Nine Nine.

_“Ben?”_

Bens form was outlined by the artificial light shed by the neon red and yellow sign at the Chinese restaurant, next to where Ben laid.

Next to where Ben was _dying_.

 _“It’s — it’s okay, bud.”_ Ben murmured, as blood began to trickle from his mouth. _“You’re gonna be okay, Pete. You and May — you’ll — you’ll be fine, and I —“_

 _“No, Ben, no —“_ Memory-him muttered, passing his hands down on the mount in his uncles chest. _“You’re — you’ll be okay, Ben, because —“_

_“Peter…”_

_“Because we_ need _you, Uncle Ben! I can’t — you have to be okay, Ben! You can’t —“_

 _“Peter.”_ Uncle Ben whispered, trying to stifle his dry coughs as he spoke quietly. _“Peter, I love you so much, son. Make sure that May — knows it, too. I — love you, both — so — so much.”_

 _“I love you too.”_ Memory-Peter mumbled, finally giving up on putting pressure on the wound, and instead pulling his uncle up into a tight hug, sobbing as his uncle died in his arms. _“I love you so, so much, Ben, I — I — I love you — too —“_

Peter rolled over, and shoved his head beneath his pillow, trying to stifle the tears that had begun to pour freely from his eyes against his will. He let out a quiet wail.

 _Uncle Ben,_ who he watched die. _Uncle Ben,_ who made sure that he always remembered his parents, despite being so young when he lost them. Who never tried to steal his dads place, and never _let_ Peter call him _dad,_ in memory of his younger brother.

 _Benjamin Parker,_ older brother of Richard Parker. Peters Uncle.

 _“If you apologise right now, I’m gonna have to whack you.”_ Another memory of Ben said, ruffling Peters hair affectionately as he did so. _“You were only_ twelve _, Pete. You were just a kid, I was off duty. It wasn’t your fault, and neither of us could do anything about it.”_

_“But I —“_

Ben looked at Peter, tilting his head in the way that parents do when their kid is being stupid.

 _“It’s just been really without you.”_ memory-Peter whispered. _“You’re the reason I became Spider-Man. Because I didn’t want people to go through what we did.”_

_“And I’m proud of you for that. We all are — you’re doing a really great thing.”_

_“God, we’re so proud.”_ This time, it was a woman with bright green eyes, and short dark hair talking — and Peter _knew_ that he knew her, just as he’d known that he knew his uncle. She stared at him fondly. _“Seriously. Rich, how did we make this?”_ She turned from looking at a tallish man with wild, light brown hair, to stare at Ben and May. Peter knew the man too, somehow. _“How did you guys make this kid so amazing. I swear to god, I can’t believe he came from me!”_

Oh. She was his _mom._ So the man must be his _dad._

They were his real, actual birth parents, and they were _right there…_ until he pulled himself out of the memory, and found himself staring blankly at the empty wall again.

No matter how hard he thought about it, Peter couldn’t bring more than a few memories of his mom and dad into his mind.

He could remember sitting in a coffee shop with his mom in the middle of winter, covered head to toe in warm, clothes. He could remember his dad cheering and patting him on the back when he successfully hit a baseball. He could remember both of his parents laughing and smiling with him as they sat on a couch eating dinner.

And that was about it.

He did have the memory in the weird orange place, where his family reunited and May wasn’t dead and his mom just seemed to want to make everything ominous, but that was one of only four memories he had with his parents in them.

_“There’s a key hidden in the frame of a photo of your father and I, in Mays apartment — one of us in Greece. It’s for a storage unit in Staten Island — it might... explain some things.”_

_“Sabina.”_

His mom. His dad. Some strange mystery that he couldn’t remember if he solved or not. It was overwhelming, and Peter felt himself pushing the doubt and the questioning to the back of his mind, so he didn’t have to think about it. A coping mechanism, of sorts.

There was still the thing that he couldn’t shake — the imposing terror of not remembering most of his existence… but he was working through that. Trying to work through that.

He was getting somewhere, at least. Slowly working his way through the unreachable memories that he was pulling to the surface.

Peter would get there eventually.

He remembered being told that his parents were dead very suddenly — and the crushing pain that he felt when seeing his aunts teary face, and the pain his uncle looked to be in, and the fact that he was being told that his _parents_ were _dead_ was still very genuine, despite having already come to the conclusion that he had, at some point, been orphaned.

He dwelled on that fact for a short while, trying to remember more and more of his real family — with a small amount of success.

Then, he started to remember _more._

He remembered a boy, with brown skin and straight dark hair, waving a letter in his face, yelling _“We got in! We got in! Peter, we got in!”_

That same boy appeared again and again as more memories started to resurface. Sitting next to him, when they were both much younger, trying to help him solve the mystery of why white crayons existed. At his apartment, watching a movie with stars and glowing red and blue sticks and a guy with a really weird voice, as Aunt May grumbled about being kicked off of her own couch, while Uncle Ben tried to guide her away. Gaping at him and dropping a round ball made of little bricks as Peter jumped down from the ceiling.

_Ned._

_Ned,_ his best friend. _Ned,_ who he’s known since he was six. _Ned,_ who found out about Spider-Man completely by accident. _Ned,_ his _brother._

Remembering Ned brought on a whole wave of new memories — school. Decathlon. Spider-manning. Homecoming.

Liz, MJ, Charles, Abe. Flash, Betty, Cindy, Sally. Mister Delmar, and Murph the cat. The man with the huge moustache that he always helped with groceries at four on a Saturday afternoon.

He remembered Mister Stark — the man sitting on a couch with May as he walked through the kitchen. Yelling at him on top of a building. Sitting next to another hospital bed, holding his hand comfortingly as he slept. He remembered rubble, and hugging the man. He remembers eating pizza and drinking too much coffee and fighting aliens.

He remembered Miss Potts too, and accidentally calling her _“Your Majesty”_ when he met her. He remembered Rhodey, a shocked whisper of _“What the_ hell, _Tones, did you seriously find out you had a real ass_ kid _and not tell me?”,_ and Mister Starks laughter as he tried to explain that Peter wasn’t actually his long lost son. He remembered Happy, ignoring him in the car, then going into protective overdrive whenever Peter got hurt.

He remembered so much, but he just couldn’t… _oh._

Peter couldn’t remember his sister because he was dead when she was born. Because he’d _died,_ and Mister Stark hadn’t, and he — he remembered the whispered words on the battlefield, about not getting too hurt because Morgan couldn’t wait to meet him (he’d fucked that one up), and — and —

— And then, just as he was getting into a flow of remembering things quickly… it all stopped.

He was in a dark room, hot and clammy. His entire body was on fire, and he let out a pained groan. A hand cupped his face.

 _“Shhh.”_ His aunts calming voice came along with the hand. _“It’s alright, Pete. We’re… we’re gonna sort you out, hey? My friend Doctor Jones is gonna come round tonight and check you out, okay? She’s gonna figure out what’s up with you.”_

Peter let out an unintelligible string of words. May sighed. _“It’s okay, honey. We’ll figure this out. You’re gonna be okay.”_

His vision started fading, and he heard one last soft whisper as he slipped into unconsciousness.

_“You have to be okay, baby. I can’t lose you too.”_

Tony banged his fist on the door of room _517 —_ Mays designated room almost directly above Peters, which she only retired to when she was _forced_ there.

She didn’t like leaving Peters side, and Tony understood that. Especially now. The first time May leaves her nephews side, her first chance at _proper_ sleep, in almost two weeks, and the kid _finally_ wakes up.

May was gonna be so mad that she wasn’t there for it.

The door opened to reveal may, in oversized pyjamas, with her hair tangled and messy, and her eyes looking as though she was struggling to keep them open. Tony almost laughed, but the situation… was a bit more important than that.

“May —“

“What do you want, Tony.” May asked wearily, tiredly raising her eyebrows.

“Peter woke up.”

Mays eyes widened, the signs of tiredness disappearing for a moment. Her hand dropped from the door, and she rushed forward, grabbing his arm in a desperate sort of way. “Tony.” She said slowly. “You have to _promise_ that you're not fucking with me. I don’t have the energy or will to play along if this is a joke.”

Tony shook his head, and smiled gently. “I’m not joking, May.” He whispered. “I’m like, the opposite of joking. He woke up. Morgan was with him when he did.”

Mays hands flew to her mouth, and tears came into her eyes. “Oh my god.” She whispered. _“Oh my god —_ he’s awake?”

“He’s awake.”

“Holy shit.” May muttered. She pressed past him, and ran toward the elevators, then practically flew down the stairs. Tony followed, but he couldn’t quite keep up — he wasn’t as fast as a mother trying to see her son after he’d been comatose for six weeks.

When he reached the door of Peters room, May was hesitating, hand on the doorknob, breathing uneasily. She looked at him tearily. “Are you sure he’s okay?”

He nodded again. “He was thirty minutes ago.”

May looked at him, dumbfounded, for a moment. “You waited _thirty minutes_ to come get me?”

“I was talking to Strange!” Tony insisted. “I was trying to — to find out if he’s gonna be okay. He’s having a bit of trouble remembering stuff, but Strange said that because its magic space stones, not blunt force trauma, he should remember everything within like, twenty four hours. He’s gonna be okay, May.”

May bit her bottom lip, and nodded. She opened the door, and then stopped in the doorway. Tears were spilling down her cheeks, and she ran to Peters form, where he leaning back on the upright bed, eyes closed.

Oh. He’d fallen asleep.

May straightened back up. _“Tony._ He was awake before, _right?_ You’re not fucking with me?”

“I’m not fucking with you, May. He must’ve fallen asleep when I was talking to the wizard — he had a bit of a run in with sticking to the floor. I bet that tired him out.”

“Mm.” May hummed. She slumped down in her usual chair, to Peters left, and reached across to the remote that sat on the bedside table. She lowered the bed back to a laying position, and then grabbed Peters hand lightly.

Tony smiled sympathetically. “He’ll be awake again in the morning, May. He’ll be fine.” She made a face somewhere between a grimace and a smile, and Tony sighed. “I should probably get back before Pep strangles me, but I’ll be back bright and early.”

“See you, Tony.” May said quietly.

He saw her lay her head on Peters bed as he left.

Peter blinked his eyes open blearily for a moment, hearing a calm heartbeat next to him, and feeling a pressure in his left hand, like someone was holding it.

He looked across, and saw dark hair. His aunt, he realised, after taking a moment to collect his thoughts.

And he could _remember._ Sure, parts of his life were fuzzy, and not everything seemed to match up, but… he _knew._ He could _remember._

Oh fuck, he’d thought _Tony Stark_ was his _dad._

Oh fuck, amnesia Peter was a fucking _idiot._

Morgan Stark was adorable though, and he definitely agreed with amnesia Peter that she needed to be protected at all costs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello may will return next chapter so yay 
> 
> love y’all tons <3
> 
> also just quickly, we don’t rlly know everything with ben in the mcu, but peter and may don’t seem to be mourning too much in cacw or hoco (literally the only mention of him is in hoco when peters like “yo don’t tell may about spider-man, that would be too much after everything that’s happened.”) so i’m this universe ben died in june of 2014 (peter was 12 yeet)
> 
> so yes. already said this, but love y’all, have a fun life, fair we’ll :)


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello sorry this took so long, i’ve been trying to actually sleep more and it’s been weird 
> 
> enjoy though :)

* * *

**PART SEVEN**

* * *

Peter felt like shit when he woke up again. His aunt was still asleep, leaning her head on his bed and holding his left arm.

His sleep wasn’t great. He had a dream; a dream that started with his mom singing softly to him in something that was decidedly _not_ English, and ended in his falling to dust in his mentors arms — not the most enjoyable thing ever.

It took a second for him to remember that he was _awake_ again, and remember what had happened last night.

He had amnesia. He met _Morgan Stark._ He thought Mister Stark was his _father._ He remembered.

He lost his right arm.

Peter was having some trouble wrapping his head around that — he was now an amputee. He only had one arm. Peter Parker lost his dominant arm, so now he couldn’t write properly. He couldn’t punch, or eat cereal normally, or text comfortably.

He couldn’t be Spider-Man.

Swinging and fighting wouldn’t be possible with just one arm. Even if he could somehow manage to protect Queens with just one arm, people would start to connect the dots; that Tony Starks personal intern, Peter Parker, blipped and lost an arm, and that Spider-Man, another close associate of Tony Stark, blipped and lost an arm. It would be a dead giveaway to his secret identity.

A part of him — well, all of him, really — didn’t want to accept that he had to give up Spider-Man. That his alter ego had essentially died, leaving _just Peter_ in his place.

Spider-Man had become an integral part of his life; his _identity._ Peter didn’t know who he would be now, if he didn’t have Spider-Man anymore, and the thought of losing his vigilante persona — part of _himself —_ was _beyond_ terrifying.

He would just be… a normal high schooler. A normal high schooler, who hadn’t been made an Avenger while on a giant spaceship with Iron Man and Doctor Strange, and had lost his arm in some made up accident, not by stopping a psychotic alien from destroying the universe again.

And _Mister Stark —_ would Mister Stark even want anything to do with him, if he wasn’t a hero anymore? His mentor had been so… well, he’d _seemed_ happy when Peter woke up — but would that eventually fade, if they no longer had the Avenger thing in common? Would his fake sister want to see him? How would Ned react?

Peter shook his head slightly where he lay, and tried to think positive.

May was here. May was here, and he knew that his aunt would _always_ love him, no matter what. She’d shown that time after time; their relationship barely faltering through everything — through Ben, and through Spider-Man, and through the awkward emo phase he went through when he was thirteen. Their only rough spot had been in the eight months that he was hiding Spider-Man, but other than that, the past four years (if she had died with Thanos — if she’d survived, it would’ve been nine years since Ben died, for her), it had just been them against the world.

May wouldn’t care if he was just a normal, one-armed teenager now.

His aunts hair was messy and matted, tied in her easily recognisable _‘I’m lazy and stressed’_ bun, and she was in baggy pyjamas — sweatpants and a big shirt that used to be Bens. Peter smiled.

He didn’t really know what to say, because he felt bad waking her up, and it seemed like she needed it, but… well, watching his aunt sleep was a little bit creepy — watching anyone over the age of three sleep was creepy, really — so he carefully pulled his hand from her grip, and shook her awake.

“May!” He whisper yelled. _“May!_ May, wake up!”

It took a moment before May woke with a start, and started blinking rapidly, looking around the room for a few seconds, clearly disoriented, before her eyes landed on Peter. Hey eyes widened.

“Oh my god.” She whispered. She reached forward and cupped his face, and a grin broke out on her face, tears coming into her eyes. “Oh my god — _Peter!_ When Tony said — I didn’t know if he was just indulging Morgan, and I — well you were asleep again when I got here, and — holy shit, you scared the crap outta me Peter! You can’t _do that!”_

May finished her very on brand mini freak out by suffocating him in a bone-crushing hug, and squeezing him tightly.

Just like Mister Stark — and all of his newly renewed memories (yay) — said she would.

“I’m sorry I made you worry.” He murmured softly.

May released him slightly, so that they were in a normal hug, and he could breath normally. “Oh Peter.” She murmured, running her fingers through his hair lightly, as he wrapped his good arm around her tightly. “It’s okay, sweetie. You’re okay, and that’s all that matters. It’s okay.”

Peter sighed in relief, and May released him completely, to sit on the edge of his bed instead of standing awkwardly next to it. She had tears running down her cheeks, despite the bright smile on her face. He felt bad — he must have really scared her.

His grandparents had probably all been told about his predicament, if they were still alive — Abuela; Carmen Parker,who he could just always remember, and who May always joked about, saying that she he was her favourite person in the world. Grandma and Grandpa; Lucia and Gabriel Reilly, Mays doting Italian parents. He didn’t really see much of any of his grandparents anymore, but they were old and cute, and he loved them.

Nowhere near as much as he loved May, though. May had _raised_ him since he was _six —_ no-one could even come _close_ to comparing to May, not even Mister Stark.

Mays smile was brightening beneath her happy tears, and she cupped his face with her hands again, then pulled him into another short embrace.

“You scared the _shit_ out of everyone, Peter!” She exclaimed once she’d sat back down on her chair, and shook her head shortly. “Not to mention — well, that.” May gestured to his right arm, or lack thereof, shortly.

Peter sighed, the suit eating up at him. He had been there, muring the fact that he couldn’t _patrol_ anymore, while his poor aunt had been there, wondering if the amputation would slowly kill him — not to mention that he did something stupid, and _known_ that something would happen from stealing that gauntlet, and yet he ran straight into the danger.

_Again._

He ran straight into the danger, and got hurt — just liked the first time he went on patrol. Just like the ferry, and the plane. Just like the time he to shot three times and didn’t tell anyone for a week, while the wounds got infected.

Like the stab would that lead to him making his death videos. Like when he got on that damn spaceship.

He kept stuffing up, and getting hurt, and _letting May down._

But he had to focus on the positives. That was what he always did — he focused on the positives, and let out his emotions by writing stories and patrolling and _building._ Be’d focused on the positives so many times, and he could do it again.

He could do it again.

Peter swallowed the lump that was rising in his throat, and let out a soft laugh. “Yeah — Ned’s gonna freak…” He trailed off, looking at May. “Have you heard from him? Did he — is he 00 and did you — y’know —”

May smiled, and placed a comforting hand on his shoulder, which helped calm him down a lot. His aunt always had that effect. “I didn’t have to miss you, honey, if that’s what you’re asking. I, uh — _disappeared,_ too.” Peter sighed in relief. “And I’ve spoken to Ned, yeah. He… yeah, he blipped = that’s what they’ve been calling it. He came out a couple weekends ago, but he had to go back for school.

“He did?” _Damn,_ his best friend had come out to _Wakanda,_ and he’d missed it, because he’d been in a _coma._ That _sucked._ “What about… like, MJ and stuff? Like Cindy and Betty and Charles and Seymour and Abe and Jason and Sally? Ned say anything about any of them?”

Mays smile fell slightly when he asked about his friends, and her expression softened sympathetically. “He said that Charles, Sally and Seymour weren’t in school anymore — that they graduated. Oh, and Morgan said that Liz has a daughter now, which is nice — and crazy!”

“Liz? Like Liz _Toomes?”_ Peter asked, confused — because why would his mentors daughter (fake sister?) know about the child of his sort-of-ex (slash old friend)? May nodded, and Peter tilted his head to the side, still not understand. “How would _Morgan_ know that _Liz_ has a kid now?”

“Morgan found Lizs number in the boxes of the stuff from our apartment that Tony kept.” May explained, either not seeing or ignoring the little jump that Peter did when she said that Mister Stark kept their stuff. “She wanted to know as much about you as she could, so she called Liz.”

Peter stared at him aunt blankly for a second, somewhere halfway between appreciation and shock and… just like, complete surprise, that Morgan had wanted to know about him _that much._

May let out a small laugh. “I know what you’re thinking, Pete. Of course she wanted to know abut you — you’re her brother. She knows you as her brother… that’s what Tony and Pepper told you.”

“Oh.” He said. He was a bit surprised that Mister Stark and Miss Potts told their _actual_ kid that he was her brother, but it also made sense, considering the fact that Morgan had introduced herself as his sister. “So that’s why she… never mind.”

He looked away from May when she raised her eyebrows, his face reddening. “What’d she do?” She asked in amusement. “Tony said she was there when you woke up... did she make you watch Mulan? Because if she did, don’t worry, that’s just how she bonds with people.”

“Just had a little bit of amnesia when I first woke up — retrograde, no biggie — and Morgan told me she was my sister and that meant that I was a bit confused.”

May just hummed in response, which was a bit of a strange reaction — one a lot smaller than he’d expected — and frowned slightly. “Tony said you were having trouble remembering stuff when he came to get me — how’s that going?”

He gave her an awkward double thumbs up, grinning. “We alls good bro.” May shook her head in amusement, and he smiled again. “Yeah. I just couldn’t remember anything for a while when I woke up, and Morgan said I was her brother, and so… yeah. Just kinda stung a bit when I figured out that I’m not _actually_ her brother, y’know?”

“Oh baby..” May murmured, running her hand through his hair absent mindedly. “She’s still your sister — If i’m her Aunt, she’s your sister, right?”

“You’re her Aunt?”

May laughed. “I’m her brothers Aunt, so i’m her Aunt too — that doesn’t really make sense if your her brother because I’m her Aunt, but it works.”

“I am so confused...” Peter said, shaking his head slightly. “Confusion one-hundred.”

“Honestly, so am I. I’ve just had some more time to process it all..”

“Right.” Peter muttered, a slight bitterness in his tone. “Aliens, almost dying, coma, arm loss and amnesia takes up quite a bit of time doesnt it? Morgan said it’d been six weeks — is that right? Like when is it?”

May leant back in her chair slightly, checking her slightly battered phone — the one that she had before Thanos — before putting it on the coffe table next to her. “April sixteenth, 2023. Eight seventeen in the morning.”

“Holy shit.” Peter muttered — because _holy shit,_ that was _weird!_ He’d known that it had been five years since he dusted, and that was in 2018, so logically it _would_ be 2023, but… hearing the date just solidified it.

It was _2023._ That sounded so weird — Neds little brother was meant to graduate high school this year.

Holy shit, maybe Neds little brother was older than them now!

Considering that, Peter was really lucky that May hadn’t survived the snap — and that Ned, and most of his friends, from the sound of it, hadn’t aged five years — either. It was weird to think that Mister Stark had survived, and that he and Miss Potts had an actual, real life _daughter_ now.

It was weird, but it was also a good thing — a welcome change.

Then, the door opened, and within a moment, Morgan was throwing herself at May. “Auntie May! Look at Petey, Auntie May! He’s _finally awake!_ Isn’t this _great?”_

“It is great, isn’t it?” May said, lifting Morgan to sit next to Peter on his hospital bed.

Mister Stark lingered in the doorway, and May grinned at him. “Hey, Tony! Pete’s back!”

“Yeah, Mister Stark!” Peter grinned. “I’m back!”

His mentor clearly understood that, because he visibly relaxed when Peter said that, and went to sit on an unoccupied armchair next to May.

There were a lot of chairs and armchairs in the room. And couches, and a table, and a mini fridge. And also all the medical equipment — it was obviously made to house both the injured patient _and_ their worried family comfortable — _Wakanda!_ This place was fucking _awesome!_

“Hey, kid.” Mister Stark said, smiling. Peter could see discomfort flit across the mans face as he glanced at the stump that Peters right arm was, and the way that he immediately stared at a point just beyond Peters head after that. “Uh — yeah. It’s good to have you back, Pete. Properly.”

“It’s good to be back. Properly.”

Mister Stark grinned, and Morgan jumped up from May to get closer to Peters bed. “Petey! Petey, daddy has something to tell you!” She exclaimed.

Mister Stark rolled his eyes. “Way to ruin the surprise, little miss.” He turned his attention to Peter. “Princess Shuri and I have been working on something for you — a prosthetic. Now that you’re awake, we wanna test it out, see how it fits, test the waters…” He waved his hand around vaguely. “Make sure it works right.”

Peters jaw dropped.

A prosthetic. As in, a fake limb — a _new arm!_

An overwhelming wave of emotion hit him, and Peter could only really think of one thing through the shock and gratitude that was fogging up his mind — he could still be Spider-Man. His alter ego didn’t have to die.

He could keep doing what he needed to do — he wasn’t going to be forced to lose that huge part of himself because of what happened to him.

He could keep being Spider-Man!

The prosthetic that the Princess of Wakanda entered his room holding looked a lot like the one that Bucky Barnes wore — but less bulky, and a darker silver.

It was the coolest thing Peter had ever seen — and he’d seen every Iron Man suit that Mister Stark made between 2013 and 2018.

“They did a targeted re-innervation when the first did the amputation.” Mister Stark said, standing up and helping Peter shaking stand from his bed. “Shuri gets credit for that one.”

“Yes, yes, thank you for remembering my genius, Stark.” Shuri laughed. “Stark here is even more of a broken white boy than you, and he hasn’t even been in a coma and had his arm amputated!”

Peter laughed, and his mentor rolled his eyes. “Just because I had _one —_ okay, well _maybe_ it was more than one — panic attack! But I had reason to! The kid was literally dying! I had every right to panic!”

“He does have a point there.” Shuri turned back to Peter. “You went into cardiac arrest four times when we first got you over here.”

“It was really bad — until last night, actually.” May added, from where she sat holding Morgan, stopping the little girl from jumping on any of them while they attached the metal arm.

“It’s alright though, kid.” Mister Stark put a comforting arm on his shoulder, obviously seeing that he had tensed. “You’re fine now, you’ve got this cool ass arm… It’s got _Vibranium_ in it, which is pretty cool. This might hurt a bit; you need to relax so that —“

“— don’t worry.” Shuri cut him off, moving to sit on the bed in front of Peter so that Mister Stark was doing the attaching of the arm completely alone. “Ive got this.”

She cleared her throat, and started speaking in a _very_ bad German accent when Peter felt a sharp jab of pain in his stump. “Hello Mister Barnes _…_ we are going to take your arm off.”

The perfect situation for that vine, yes.

“I think I just need help…” He tried to do a more Brooklyn-y accent than his own.

“Give you cool robot arm instead.” Shuri laughed, and then Peter felt another stab of pain, and let out a short cry. Shuri rushed to distract him. “You know, back when Bucky was staying in Wakanda, I educated him in vines.”

“Really?” Peter winced as the metal moved against the sensitive skin where his real arm ended. “What’d he think?”

“Well… well he liked the Cap ones. Liked most of them, actually. He ranted about the one about him being inaccurate for like, three hours, though.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, said he just kinda woke up and they were like… ‘haha, say goodbye to your memory, bitch.”

“Sounds super fun.”

“Yeah, he also —“

“— that’s all done now.” Mister Stark cur her off. “Pete, try — try moving your fingers a little. It’s fine if you can’t, but just try.”

Peter stared at the metal attached to his stump, and tried to move it up, closer to his face, so that he could see it better.

It _worked!_ His arm — his new, _metal_ arm, _moved!_

“Holy shit!” He exclaimed, rolling his wrist around a couple of times, and then wiggling his fingers. He grinned at his aunt, who was beaming at him.

“Is that… is that okay? Everything feeling alright? Everything — everything good?”

“Calm down, Stark, _I_ made this — I’m a certified genius…” She tilted her head to the side slightly, grinning. “And, I mean… I guess you helped too.”

“Wow, Mister Stark, you’re gonna need some sunscreen for that burn!”

“It’s the humour that is dead now because we’ve been dead for five years, for me.” Shuri said bluntly. Peter looked at her in confusion, eyebrows drawn together as he tried to figure out what in the hell that meant. She laughed. “It’s a thing that they say on TikTok now — it used to be Musically, but it’s TikTok, and it’s like the new Vine, but not as good. I’ve been catching up on the memes.”

“I still take offence to it though, Underoos — even if it isn’t your best.”

“Shut up, Mister Stark.” He rolled his eyes. “I just woke up from a six-week-long coma; you’re not allowed to bully me.”

“That’s true, daddy!” Morgan yelled, from the corner that she and May were in — fuck, it was weird to think about the fact that Mister Stark and Miss Potts had a legitimate, _biological_ kid now. Crazy shit.

“Wow, I’m just getting attacked from all angles now, hey?” Mister Stark posted between Peter and Shuri. “You two are never allowed in the same room again. I _will_ talk to T’Challa.”

“That’s just rude.” Peter said, still flexing his fingers in amazement. “And also, sir, I’m offended by the fact that you didn’t get my reference — it’s from Brooklyn Nine-Nine! Gina — like when the Boyles go on vacation? And she’s making fun of Charles?”

“Gina’s gone, kid… she blipped, so she had to be cut from the show.”

“What? Noooooooo!” Peter exclaimed. It actually genuinely hurt — the realisation, once again, that the snap was actually _real._ That it had happened to _everyone,_ and affected _everything._ “Anyways, besides that,” He touched his bed covers softly, willing them to stick to his prosthetic — and it _worked!_ “This is _awesome!_ It’s — It’s just like in that movie, Empire Strikes Back, how that Jedi —“

“— we know, kid.”

“— yeah, but it’s crazy! I can feel what I’m touching, _through_ the prosthetic! I can _feel_ stuff! Like, how did you get my powers through it? It’s insane — insane! This is _so cool!”_

“Yes, it is very cool — and made with _great_ difficulty.” Shuri rolled her eyes. “Old man here insisted that we had to figure it out — part of the reason that making it took so long.”

Peter grinned, flexing his arm and hand again. It would take some getting used to, definitely, but it was _awesome!_

And he could _still be Spider-Man._

“Okay, okay, children — let’s… stop this. And talk more on the physical therapy side — you’ve got to have three appointments with them for the next two weeks, possibly more —“

“— yeah, yeah, yeah, Stark, no-one cares — we can remind him as we go.”

“Oh, so just because I’m trying to stop my kid from overexerting himself and somehow hurting himself even more, and —“

“— I think I’ll be okay, Mister Stark —”

“— and here you are, trying to stop me from looking after him —“

“— so over dramatic, Stark.” Shuri laughed.

Yeah, everything would be _fine._

Natasha stood with Clint in the living area that the King was letting all of them that were staying in Wakanda share.

"So," Clint let himself fall back onto the couch, coffee in hand. "Spider-Man. The kid — what's the deal with him? He Tonys?"  


"Spider-Man isn't Tony's son, no." Natasha scoffed, rolling her eyes. "Not by _blood,_ anyway. Remember Richie Parker?"

"Richie Parker? Like Richie Parker who died like, fifteen years ago?"

"Yep." She nodded, not stopping the nostalgic smile from spreading across her face. "Peter's Richie Parker's son. Looks exactly like his mother."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> okay okay okay okay hi i’m sorry if his whole recovery thing feels rushed but idk so yeah 
> 
> also i felt like being sad so i watched game again and y’all. In the scene where morgan is like in the tent, she’s wearing these fake ironman glove things — and if you look at the kid in IM2, the gloves he wears are the same. And that kid is peter parker, and morgan now has the gloves, does that mean that tony canonically keeps peters stuff around? like that would actually make my heart be complete. My crops would be watered, my skin would be cleared —
> 
> —okay i’ll stop, but i hope u liked this
> 
> anyway have a good night or day or... time :)
> 
> love y’all tons <3


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just some happyness without conflict and Peter and Tony annoying Doctor Strange, because they deserve to be not sad :D
> 
> Enjoy, children.

* * *

**PART EIGHT**

* * *

Tony watched as the physical therapist — one of the Wakandan ones — helped Peter move his arm in different directions, and he smiled. Peter was going _very_ well getting used to his new arm, and how long he had to keep the prosthetic on and off for.

He was recovering _amazingly._ It had only been a week, but he was going _really_ well — because… well, a metal arm and permeant scarring wasn’t ideal, in any way, but the kid was there, and he was alive, and his usual happy self, and — and that made Tony _so happy._ That his kid was happy. That his kid had formed a _‘metal arm bros’_ club with Bucky and Nebula, and was taking the whole _‘I have a metal arm now’_ thing really well.

Tony was _especially_ glad that Peter and Morgan were _finally_ existing _together_ outside of his wildest dreams. His daughter had her wish of being with her brother, his… _Peter_ was recovering, and the pieces in his life that had been broken, even before he knew Peter, were coming back together.

There was a soft knock on the door, and it opened, revealing a smiling Nat. “Hey. Hacker kid’s here again.” She pulled Ted or Fred or whatever Peter’s best friends name was (he knew that it was Ned, really), into the room.

The last time that Peters best friend had visited Wakanda had been on the weekend, four weeks after Peter fell into the coma — it was May that had brought him over, because she had been in New York at the time, and then Pepper who took him back to the city when he left, because she had to go back for a Stark Industries conference.

This time, it was him that picked Ned up — he had been _ecstatic_ to find Tony waiting outside Midtown Tech for him, like how he had waited for Peter occasionally… _before._ They’d only met two or three times before the decimation, and Ned had fanboy freaked every time. This time had been different, gladly, because they’d come to a truce, of sorts, regarding the _‘oh shit you’re Tony Stark’_ thing.

Tony had left him with May while Peter was in Physical therapy — so she could tell him that Peter would be… _different._ Just to give him the heads up.

The kid grinned when he saw Peter. “Peter! Hi! Oh my god, you have a metal arm — holy shit! And the _Black Widow_ brought me to your room! _Natasha Romanoff!_ And _Tony Stark_ is here! Holy shit, this is _so_ cool!”

“Hey, Ned!” Peter grinned. The physical therapist gave him a small smile, and nodded, letting him run to his best friend and engulf him in a hug. “Oh my god, I missed you so much! It’s been like — well, only like a week, from what I can remember, but that’s still _such_ a long time!”

Tony couldn’t help but smile as the two teenagers hugged. Nat punched him lightly on the shoulder. “Hey!” He exclaimed. “What was that for!”

Nat rolled her eyes. “You’re smiling like an idiot.”

“No I’m not.” He immediately denied, shaking his head and wiping the smile off his face. “I’m not smiling like an idiot. You’re smiling like and idiot — wait, why are you smiling so much?” He’d _never_ seen Nat look that happy.

“Well, Tony, usual when people smile, it’s because they’re happy. And, most normal people don’t deny that they’re smiling when they’re smiling.”

“I don’t think you really count as _‘most normal people’_ Nat — none of us do… except maybe May. Or like, Laura. But none of the rest of us.” He rolled his eyes, and kept watching as Peter and Ned talked excitedly to each other.

The physical therapist walked over to him and Nat, and smiled. “He’s only got another week of compulsory physical therapy left — maybe even less of that; he’s doing _very_ well. Much better than I expected. So… he’s done for today — next session is on Sunday.”

“Two days? Cool.” Tony nodded. “Thanks, doc.”

She nodded, and gave him a small wave. “I’ll leave you guys to it.” Then, she left.

Nat grinned, and flopped down on one of the chairs in the room, after grabbing a can of Pepsi from the fridge in the corner. “So, _Mini-Sab,_ how’s the arm going?”

Peter grinned, and jumped back up onto his bed, sitting cross legged on it, and patting next to him to get Ned to sit up there too. “My name’s still not Mini-Sab, I still don’t know what that means, and the arm stuff is going really, really well!”

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Whatever, _AJ.”_

“Don’t know what that one means either, Miss Romanoff.”

Peters initial reaction to meeting Natasha had surprised him — there had been a spark of something like recognition, before confusion had settled into his features. Nat hadn’t seemed surprised by it, and she’d taken to calling him all sorts of nicknames that nobody but her seemed to understand; Mini-Sab, AJ, Angelo Junior, _Племянник,_ whatever _that_ meant.

Nat hadn’t talked to Morgan too much before they got everyone back — issues that Tony was sure were tied to Clint, and his kids. That had changed since she’d returned from Vormir, and now there was Peter, too — she’d promised him that she would train with him once he was completely okay with his arm stuff, and, as Doctor Strange would say, _‘his mind was sound’ —_ because the Doctor could only speak in strange metaphors, seemingly just to torment Tony; _’It was the only way’, ‘I’m just gonna hold up a finger while your kid sacrifices himself’, ‘I protect your reality’_ — all that bullshit.

Natasha scoffed. “I’ve said it before, _Mister Parker —_ don’t call me that, just call me _Natasha.”_

“Yeah, Peter!” Ned piped up. “Just call her Natasha!”

Nat narrowed her eyes at the teenager, and shook her head. _“You_ call me Miss Romanoff, Leeds.”

Peter burst out laughing, and Ned glared at him. “Shut up.”

Peter kept laughing, and the door opened again. Tony turned, and saw his wife, daughter, and May. “Pep! Maguna! May!” He grinned, and gave Pepper a quick kiss.

Pepper passed Morgan to him, smiling. “How was New York?”

“New York was fine — picked up Mister Leeds, over there.”

Pepper turned to the kids, and smiled. “Ned! Lovely to see you again! How’s school?”

Ned shrugged. “School’s fine — not the same without Peter there. I miss you, dude.”

The kid grinned. “I miss you too, Ned! Oh my god! Did you meet Shuri last time you came?”

 _“Princess_ Shuri?” Ned asked, nodding. “Yeah, yeah she’s awesome! She — well, I was kinda really sad last time I was here, but she introduced me to Mister Barnes, and… yeah! It was awesome!”

“She should be coming, too!” Peter exclaimed.

Jesus, those kids were so excitable — Tony loved it, though. Especially Peter — the fact that Peter was awake, and happy, and well enough to hang out with his best friend.

“Yeah, Shuri, Neb, Hap and Sour Patch are coming — they’re bringing pizza, whenever they get here.”

 _“Awesome!”_ Ned exclaimed, before turning to Peter. “Dude, your life is _so cool.”_

Their pizza had arrived — along with the rest of their new strange little… _family_ thing. Obviously Pepper and Morgan, Happy and Rhodey. And Nebula; she’d stuck around during the five years that everything was falling to shit. Peter and May had been a part of their family, too — more so before the blip than during it. During it, they were more of a memory. Their disappearance had made their existence seem less _real,_ and… and it had basically just been _mourning._

But they were back, and it was _really_ helping Tonys sanity — he wasn’t hallucinating the kid anymore, which was _definitely_ a good thing. Their return was helping him become _less_ insane.

And now, their entire little family unit, with the addition of Shuri and Ned — who were really just there for Peters sake.

“Seriously! That’s _awesome!”_ The kid exclaimed, picking up another piece of Pizza. “They made Hamilton into a movie?”

Shuri grinned. “Yeah! They even got most of the original… well, _some_ of the original cast — just like, Hamilton and Eliza and Burr and Laurens and Angelica.”

“It’s still _awesome_ though!” Ned exclaimed. “MJ and I watched it — it was _so_ good!”

“It is good.” Pepper added, next to him. “Hey, Morgie!”

“Yeah, mommy?” Their daughter grinned.

“Who wrote the federalist papers?”

“John Jay wrote five, then he got sick and had to stop, James Maddison wrote twenty nine, and Alexander Hamilton wrote fifty one.”

“Yes.” Peter whispered. “Yes. This is amazing.”

“No.” May replied, shaking her head. She honestly looked a bit afraid. “No, Tony — I thought you _learned_ not to introduce people to it after _this one!”_ She nodded to Peter.

“He was playing the soundtrack for _months,_ May! I couldn’t just _not_ take him to see it!” He tried to insist. May looked unimpressed.

Rhodey patted May on the shoulder sympathetically. “I tried to stop them, I promise. Tones just doesn’t like to learn from his mistakes.”

_“Rhodey!”_

“I will agree that you are rather stubborn, Tony.” Nebula said.

Tony gasped dramatically. _“Nebula!”_

Natasha laughed, then turned to Happy. “Hey Hogan, remember that thing we used to do together.”

“Boxing?” Happy asked, looking over at her. “Yeah, why?”

“I challenge you,” Nat grinned. “To an _arm wrestle.”_

“No!” Rhodey exclaimed, making Tony laugh. The three teenagers on the bed looked up from — _what the hell was that? —_ whatever they were doing briefly, before turning back into their tight huddle. “No, no, _no —_ I am _not_ doing this again, cause then I’m gonna have to break it up, and I swear to god, you guys are _way_ too competitive.”

Happy looked at Rhodey for a second, then leaned one arm across Peters bed, reaching over to Nat. “You’re on.”

Tony rolled his eyes, and looked down at Morgan, who was sitting on his lap, but wriggling to try get away. He raised his eyebrows at her. “What’s up, Little Miss?”

She looked up at him, pouting slightly. “Can I go sit with Petey?”

He laughed. “Yeah, whatever. Go on. Leave your old man here all alone. Leave me! It won’t break my heart at —“

She was already gone — up onto the bed to force her way into Peter, Ned and Shuris conversation.

“All I’m saying,” Ned was speaking slowly, looking at Shuri with a mixture of annoyance and irritation — very clearly trying to hide his excitement at being surrounded by this group of people. “Is that… well, it shouldn’t be _possible_ for the stickiness to be coming from him! People who have control over their prosthetic limbs can’t actually _feel_ what their touching; their brain comprehends the implied sensation — so there’s no way that _he_ could be transferring his powers to it. It just wouldn’t _work —_ so it has to be the arm. _”_

“You’re right.” Shuri shrugged. “You caught me… it did _technically_ come from his other arm, though — cause we had to make a formula for his powers, so we had to study his spider DNA, so we had to use his blood. And some of his skin.”

“Ew!” Morgan exclaimed.

Tony felt someone sit down next to him — May. He smiled at her, and she returned it. “I can’t believe he’s okay.” He murmured.

Mays smile widened. “Neither.” She whispered. “It’s amazing. I — I thought I was going to lose him.”

Tony grabbed her hand, and smiled at her. “You’re not going to lose him. Seriously. I’m not going to _let_ you lose him.”

May squeezed his hand tightly. “Thanks, Tony.” She laughed softly. “Y’know, I never actually thanked you.”

“For what?”

Mays eyebrows drew together slightly as she looked at him in confusion. “For… saving him?”

“What? I didn’t save him — that was the doctors.”

“No,” May shook her head, letting out a little confused scoff. “No, no, no, I’m talking about when he was little.”

“When he was…” Tony trailed off, looking at May, trying to decipher what the hell she was trying to say. _“What?”_

“The expo!” She exclaimed. “In 2010 — with the drones — I thought you knew!”

“You were at the _expo?”_

“Yeah, we — we lost him, and you stopped a drone from killing him — I thought he would’ve told you! Or that you already knew!”

A fairly distant memory — of a little kid in a _Stark Expo_ shirt, with a plastic Iron Man mask and fake repulsers, flew into his mind, and he blinked at May in shock. _“Peter_ is _Expo Kid?”_

“The one and only!” Peter piped up. Tony and May both looked up at him in surprise.

Right. The kid still had super hearing.

“By the way, thanks for not letting me get disintegrated, Mister Stark!” Peter laughed, before turning back to his friends.

“Holy shit.” Tony muttered. “Holy _shit.”_

May patted him on the shoulder, laughing. “Yeah. Have fun with that one.”

He looked up at her, and grinned — because everything was… okay. His family was there.

Pepper, sitting next to him, talking to Rhodey (who was nodding to her between bites of the pizza that he was demolishing) about whatever he’d been up to at the airport. Happy, losing arm wrestle after arm wrestle, and getting bits of pizza thrown at him by Natasha every time he lost, Natasha herself laughing at his annoyance. Nebula sitting somewhat awkwardly near the kids, joining in on parts of their conversation, and _almost_ smiling. May, next to him, just smiling at the kids. Morgan, sitting on Peters knee, watching the kid, Ned, Shuri and Nebula talking in amazement.

And the kid himself. Peter, awake, laughing at Ned and Shuri singing some song about bleach (side note; _what?)_ as he ate his own pizza. Peter, awake and alive and happy.

And Tony knew that he had to have done something right to get to this point. To get to a moment so simple, and yet so —

— so _perfect._

Things were… they were _weird._ He remembered basically everything — about before — although he still had little moments where he didn’t remember things. Strange said that as far as he could tell (given that his injuries were connected to alien stuff that they didn’t know all that much about), this was a normal recovery, and that he would stop having the forgetful moments pretty soon.

He was adjusting alright to stuff. His arm was going fine, his scarring… well, it would always be there, but it was becoming less bad every day.

Peter and Morgan still got along great, strange meeting circumstances aside. And, she still saw him as her big brother — a role that he was starting to take pretty seriously, as the adults in his life were starting to learn.

Morgan seemed absolutely _awed_ by his very existence — she was always staring at him, wide eyed and amazed, asking him about every single tiny detail he could remember about his life. It was safe for him to assume that she was so excited by his presence because of the fact that he was something of a myth to her — a story from her childhood, that she had only ever let herself _hope_ to become something more than a story.

It was evident now more than ever that his mentor like to _build_ families. Drag people together, and somehow make them all work in. A group and come to love one another.

Pepper. Morgan. Him. May. Rhodey. Happy. Nebula. Natasha — the weird group of people that Mister Stark had connected, and somehow work together as a family unit.

And, what could he say — it was nice to have a family outside of just himself and May. To have a big, chaotic, made up of more than sixty percent Avengers, family.

Plus, there was Shuri, and she was super cool. And Ned was staying for the weekend — which was awesome. Having his best friend around was super cool.

The only people from their new little _family_ that he didn’t really know (excluding Morgan; he felt like he knew her, despite having only met her a week ago), were Natasha and Nevula, and his introduction to them hadn’t been anywhere near as scary or awkward as he had expected.

Nebula, he’d met before, on Titan — though only briefly. She seemed a lot less daunting and scary now, after being introduced to him by Mister Stark as _‘Nebbie, my drifting in space buddy’._

Peter wasn’t even gonna _try_ guess what happened to cause that introduction — he wasn’t sure if he even _wanted_ to know.

Meeting _the_ Natasha Romanoff had been a whole other story. He’d only ever spoken to her very briefly in Germany, before she switched sides… and yet when he first saw her casually leaning against the doorframe leading into his room, he’d felt such an overwhelming sense of recognition.

It hadn’t been until a few hours later that he realised she reminded him of his mom — both from his scarce childhood memories, and from his memory of the brief time with her in the orange land.

And the fact that he found similarities between _Natasha Romanoff_ and his _mom_ was so terrifyingly _strange_ that he’d just been outrightly pretending that he didn’t think of his mother every time that he saw Natasha.

And why he was doing stupid things, like how he had spent the last forty minutes being lectured about cover stories and non-disclosure agreements and ‘bed rest’ (which basically just meant nothing more physically difficult than walking around and doing physical therapy) by Doctor Strange — and why he and Mister Stark had only just managed to escape the Wizard.

Mister Stark slung an arm over his shoulders as they made their way down the hallway, back to his room. They stopped outside, both pausing at the sound of yelling and screaming inside the room.

Peter looked up at his mentor in confusion. “… _what?”_

The man grimaced. “Nat and Neb may have sorta — kinda — started trying to teach Morgan hand to hand combat.”

“Well.” He deadpanned, turning to look down the hallway into an imaginary camera, like he was on the office. “We are well and truly _fucked.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, yeah, just a bit of a filler chapter between being not very alive and being back at school, because yknow, major trauma and stuff 
> 
> Love y’all! I’ll update asap i promise <3


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey guys, second chapter in like, 36 hours, so yay!
> 
> Literally the only reason i got this done so fact is bc my cat died and I was trying to drown my depression in some happy fix writing, but oh well, it was a fun chapter, RIP my cat <3
> 
> Also we love us some flash redemption

* * *

**PART NINE**

* * *

_A round bang resonated through the small alley next to the Chinese restaurant that he was in, and the man in front of him stumbled backward, clutching at his chest desperately._

_“Ben?” Peter heard his own voice. “Ben, are you okay?”_

_Ben tripped over his feat, falling backwards, and Peter moved forward to catch his Uncle.They sunk to the ground, Ben coming to lay in the artificial yellow and red light being shed by the neon signage of the restaurant next to them._

_“Ben?”_

_Ben tilted his head to look at Peter, the ghost of a smile crossing his face as blood began to trickle from his mouth. “It’s — it’s okay, bud.” The man murmured. “You’re gonna be okay, Pete. You and May — you’ll — you’ll be fine, and I—”_

_Peter pressed his hands down of the wound in Bens chest, letting the soft sobs wrack his body as he did so. “No, Ben, no — you’re — you’ll be okay, Ben, because —”_

_“Peter…”_

_“Because we_ need _you, Uncle Ben, I can’t — you have to be okay, Ben! You can’t —”_

_“I’m sorry, Peter.”_

_Peter jumped up, away from Bens body, and found that he wasn’t in the alley anymore; instead, he was in a dark warehouse, Adrien Toomes standing in front of him._

_“What are you talking about? That thing hasn’t even touched me yet!”_

_“True.” Toomes said casually. “But then again, it wasn’t really trying to.”_

_He lost sight of the Vulture as the wings knocked down the last of the supports holding it up, and a mountain of concrete collapsed on him._

_There was concrete all around him. Dust everywhere. He couldn’t breathe, everything was too dark to see, all he could feel the weight of the entire building crushing him. He couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t —_

_“You’re alright.”_

_He wasn’t being suffocated by a collapsed building anymore — now, he could see his hands slowly disintegrating, everything around him orange and dusty. He looked up at the sound of Mister Starks voice._

_Peter could feel his legs falling apart too, and fell into his mentors arms, clutching the man desperately. “I don’t wanna go, I don’t wanna go, sir, please, please, I don’t wanna go —” He could feel his atoms tearing themselves apart, his powers fighting against an unstoppable power to try stop his death. “I don’t wanna go.”_

_They fell to the floor, and Peter could tell that his body had given up on him — that his Spider DNA couldn’t save him. He looked up at Mister Stark, trying to ignore the terror in the mans eyes. “I’m sorry.”_

_He felt his face go slack, and then felt searing, burning, white hot pain through the entire right side of his body. There was gross, metallic taste in his mouth, and the smell of burning flesh. The pain was all consuming._

_“And I… Don’t… Care…”_

_“Peter stop.”_

_The pain in his right arm was still there, but a lot fainter. His mom was standing in front of him. “You’re not doing anyone any help by dying.”_

_“Mom?”_

_“Nothing you know about me is what you think, honey.” Wait, that didn’t sound quite right. “But I love you.”_

_“Stop hogging him, Sabina!” Another voice — a man; his dad — yelled. “I —“_

_He stared in horror as his parents faces morphed drastically, first becoming bloodied and misshapen — dead — and then falling away until all that was left was tiny shreds of flesh hanging off hollow skulls. They fell backwards, grabbing at him as they did so, trying to pull him down to the rain soaked ground of the graveyard that they were now in with them._

_They grasped at his hands as the ground, the dirt, swallowed them up, and barely had enough time to process the declaration of ‘In loving memory of Richard Parker, May Parker’ on the headstone in front of him until he too was being buried by the ground._

_He couldn’t breathe. Dirt was all around him, blocking his lungs. He couldn’t see, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he couldn’t breathe, he was being buried alive and he couldn’t breathe —_

_—_ Peter woke with a start, his eyes flying open and taking note of the fact that he was at home. He was in his bed. He was okay.

It was a few moments before he could breathe properly again, the memories of his nightmare — of being crushed, and being turned to dust, and wielding the gauntlet, and being buried alive — all crashing up again, and he took a minute to calm himself.

He was okay. He was in his bedroom, in his apartment. Queens — he was in Queens. At home. He wasn’t being crushed by a building, he’d _got out._ He wasn’t dust. He wasn’t dead. They’d _brought him back._ He wasn’t using the gantlet anymore. He was helloing perfectly fine. His parents weren’t going to somehow come back from the dead and pull an _‘Other Mother from Coraline turning into the Beldam’_ on him. He wasn’t going to be buried alive. He was okay.

Sort of.

As it turned out, the family that had moved into his and Mays apartment after the ‘blip’ — a married couple, their little kid, and the wife’s mother — had moved pretty quickly after May had reappeared there. Apparently the Grandmother had thought that May was a ghost, and _insisted_ that they move out immediately. They had moved within the week.

That meant that May could start renting their old apartment again, and she’d spent quite a lot of time when he was in the coma restoring it to almost exactly how it was _before._

And that was _really weird._

The normalcy of being there, back in the city, in the place he’d grown up, had prompted the return of his nightmares. He hadn’t really had any when they were in Wakanda, for some reason, and then, _boom,_ the very night that they returned to Queens — _nightmares._

It was also really weird being so far away from everyone now. They’d been back in Queens since Wednesday, and he was finding it super strange not being able to just walk down a hallway and see literally anyone in his new little _family_ that he wanted to.

His and Mays return to Queens had kind of prompted the others to leave Wakanda, so everyone was really all over the place.

The Starks were the closest, now. They had a penthouse in Manhattan that they were living in most of the time now. They had a lake house that they’d lived in, during the blip, and used the Penthouse more for when they really needed to be in the city, but now the lake house was their _weekend_ home.

He and May had stayed there on Saturday and yesterday, and it was really cool there.

Nebula was… _somewhere._ She went back to space to be with the Guardians from Titan, and a version of her dead sister Gamora who had time travelled from 2014. Natasha was upstate, helping Mister Rogers and some other Avengers rebuild the compound upstate. Rhodey was going between staying in Boston, near his mom and sister, and being in DC for his job. Happy was in the city, but he was always working.

It was really just like how things were _before —_ and it was _terrifying_ to Peter, how _normal_ everything was.

And, just to add to the scary normalcy, he had to start at school again today. He had to go to school, with only a few people that he used to know, and a bunch of kids that were supposed to be five years younger than him.

He didn’t have to wonder who he knew at school had moved on, and who was still there — Ned had told him. Out of their old year group at Midtown, only nine had died. Him and Ned, MJ, Cindy, Abe and Flash, Jason and Betty, and two of the sporty girls, Ellie and Catelynn.

The Midtown class of 2019 had been _very_ lucky — for those that survived. They lost less than ten of their classmates… for those of them left, though, it was going to suck.

Other years had had greater losses. The year above them had lost more than half of their students, as with the year below. Visions academy, in Brooklyn, had been left with only _thirty_ people after the snap.

Midtown had just been lucky — their _year_ had been lucky.

Their new year was less lucky, though. It was apparently barely half the size of their old year group, because heaps of people that had been born in 2006 had blipped too. It was one of the year group at Midtown, now.

From what Ned had said, everyone that had been in their year _before_ had all kind of banded together, and were a bit separated from the 2006 kids.

He wasn’t even worrying about the _people,_ though. He was dreading the fact that once he was back at school, he would be completely back to normal life — which he was already feeling alienated in.

Being at school would mean acting like his amputation was caused by a _bus_ accident that he’d been involved in when he blipped back. An accident that could have happened to anyone. It would mean acting like he didn’t know most of his family, and pretending that Titan — that his return and his snap, his amnesia and his time in Wakanda — didn’t happen.

He was terrified.

There would always be the part of him that wished for nothing more than to forget about it all; forget Spider-Man and the Avengers and space — but then there was the part of him that didn’t want to forget. The part that knew that this was a part of him now, and things would never be like before again.

Peter was a nostalgic person — always had been. He formed emotional connections with things. Certain books or clothes or types of coffee reminded of certain things, and gave him a sense of comfort and security.

And that was why he was wearing what he was wearing; his lab jeans. The old green jacket of Ben’s that had been handed down to him after his uncle died. Mister Starks grey MIT hoodie (an actual, _authentic_ 80’s one), which he had stolen over the weekend. His barely staying together converse high tops, that he’d bought years ago with May.

All because it made him feel safe and comfortable.

It was really lucky that Mister Stark had stored most of his and Mays things after they died, otherwise none of those things would still be there. Whether it had been guilt, or grief, or some deep down sense that May and Peter would return that had driven his mentor to keep all their things didn’t really matter, because he _had —_ and Morgan, apparently, had even taken to stealing his clothes and stuff while they were… _away._

It really just solidified that fact that she _really was_ his sister.

And his sister was very excited for the fact that he was going to school.

May, Miss Potts and Mister Stark, had agreed that they would all drive him and pick him up for his first day, and drop him a block away from school — the decision was greatly aided by Morgans insistence that she _had_ to be there for him on his first day back.

The five of them got out of the car on a quiet street, a block away from his school. Tony and Pepper were both dressed extremely casually (maybe even _too_ casually), in an attempt to look like normal people, rather than two superheroes that co-owned and co-ran one of the biggest tech companies in the world.

“Good luck today, kid.” Mister Stark was the first to speak, patting him on the good shoulder, before drawing him into a tight hug.

That had become a regular occurrence, too — Mister Stark and Miss Potts hugging him, giving him extremely parental cheek kisses, as though he were Morgan, messing up his hair. Peter knew that it stemmed from the fact that they needed to be there for him. They spent five years without him around, mourning him, and now they needed physical confirmation that he wasn’t some sort of hallucination.

Happy and Rhodey had mentioned his mentor actually hallucinating him sometimes during the five year gap, which was quite a horrifying thought.

Mister Stark didn’t let go of him for a short while, and made sure to give him a quick kiss on the cheek before he did so.

Then Miss Potts pulled him into another embrace, murmuring, “Stay safe, sweetie.” into his hair, tears in her eyes, before she, too, let go.

Next was Morgan, who tackled him down to kneel at her height, and wrapped her arms around his middle, burying her head in his chest. “Have fun today, Petey!” She exclaimed with excitement when she pulled away from him. “Mommy says that we’re picking you up this afternoon, and you and Auntie May are gonna come for dinner so you can tell us all about school!”

“Yeah?” He replied, holing her shoulders a short distance away from himself. “Well i’ll make sure I tell you absolutely everything, hey?”

Peter missed the soft looks that that the three adults exchanged at his big brother skills — they all thought he was a natural.

“Of course! You have to!” Morgan said back, smirking. “Auntie Nat and Uncle Rhodey and Uncle Happy are coming too!”

Peter grinned at his sister. “Well that’s awesome.” He stood up, picking up his backpack as he did so.

May was the last to engulf him, running her hand through his hair and holding him even tighter than Mister Stark had, also tearing up. “You be careful today, baby.” She said, her voice somewhere between soft, concerned and stern, as she held him at a slight distance. “If you feel overwhelmed or tired or anything, call one of us, okay?”

“Yeah, I will, May.”

“I love you!” She said quietly, giving him another quick hug.

“Love you too, May!” He said in return, smiling at her, before looking back at the Starks. “Love you guys, too! See you tonight!”

After a series of _‘Love you too’_ s were repeated, Peter gave his family one last smile, before turning around and taking the short walk to school.

That in itself was eerily normal; school looked exactly the same, and the groups of people walking around him, though unfamiliar students, had the same exact vibes as the ones that he knew from before did.

What was unfamiliar, though, was _Flash Thompson_ falling into step on his left side as he walked through the front gates.

Flash looked… so _normal._ Just like ordinary, everyday Flash; the way he always had. But there was something different about him — he looked a bit more… _soft._ Like he was still in the recovery phase of dealing with a loss — Peter had been there, many times, and he knew that Flash was there, now; his best friends, Noah, Jackson and Mattew, had all survived the decimation, and were all off at college, and his little sister had grown older than him, and now lived in Chicago — at least, that’s what Ned had said.

“Hey Parker!” Flash exclaimed — almost _timidly —_ once they were walking next to each other. Peter didn’t miss the absence of the old _‘Penis Parker’_ remark. “You’re back! Leeds said that you would be, but none of us were really sure, cause no one’s heard _anything_ from you — other than Ned, and he wasn’t _telling_ us anything, so… yeah. It’s good to see you, man!”

“Yeah, uh, hey — hi, Flash.” He replied, _definitely_ stunned by Flash’s seemingly _genuine_ happiness at seeing him. “It’s good to be back — sorry about not contact you, my phone got destroyed, and I lost all my contacts — and my iCloud committed die when we were — well, y’know, _dead —_ so I couldn’t really _text…”_

“What the hell happened to you?” Flash asked. “Like, Ned said you were hit by a _bus,_ and MJ keeps saying that she has a _‘sneaking suspicion’_ of what _actually_ happened —”

“— of course she does.” Peter rolled his eyes.

“Yeah,” Flash laughed, as they started walking up the stairs.“Michelle Jones; cryptic as ever. So, anyway — what’s the deal? It’s been like, _two months!”_

“Yeah, I was in a coma.” Peter spat out, unable to stop himself. “Uh, yeah, I…” He lifted his right arm to rub his neck awkwardly, but paused at the shocked expression on Flash’s face. “What?”

 _“Dude!”_ Flash exclaimed, looking around them slightly, then lowering his voice to a whisper. “Is that a _metal arm!?”_

“I, uh…” Peter brought his arm back down, looking at his right (metal) hand for a moment, then grinning at Flash somewhat awkwardly. “Yeah. It’s a metal arm.”

Flash gaped as they made their way down the corridor, going towards Neds new locker — he’d been told where it was _at least_ seventy in the last twelve hours. _“How!?”_ Flash exclaimed.

Peter fiddled with the sleeves of his hoodie, looking down a bit as he told his cover story. “Uh, bus accident — I blipped back on the road, right in front of a bus, and it just kinda like, yeeted itself into me, and I got a bit stuck under it — and they had to control alt delete my arm.” He shrugged.

“Woah, that is so crazy man, like — oh! Hey, Leeds!”

Peter looked away from Flash, to see his best friend pulling books out of a locker, giving them a wide grin. “Hey, Flash, hey, Peter! I can’t believe you’re back dude, this is _crazy!”_

Peter had seen Ned just last week, but he still grinned, and they went though their entire handshake.

“Um, I just —” Flash cleared his throat awkwardly when they’d finished reuniting. “I’m just — I’m sorry — for being a dick, before. And for the whole _Penis Parker_ thing. I just — y’know —”

“It’s fine, Flash.” Peter cut across him. “Totally cool. That was like, five years ago — no need to dwell on it.”

Flash gave a small laugh, as MJ joined them. “Hey losers.”

“MJ!” Peter exclaimed, grinning at her. “Hey!”

Surprisingly, MJ smiled at him, her eyes only shifting to the visible part of his metal arm momentarily. “Nice metal arm, Parker.”

“...Thanks, I guess.”

“Principal Morita sent through your timetable, right? What’ve you got first period?” Ned asked, grinning.

“Chem, I think. With Cobbwell?”

“Yes!” Ned exclaimed. “I’ve got that too.”

“Yeah, same here.” MJ said bluntly, as Flash echoed a quiet “Same.”

“So do Cindy, Abe and Betty.” Ned supplied, and Peter grinned.

Maybe things being normal wouldn’t be so terrible after all.

Nat was late for their little back to school celebration dinner… which wasn’t that surprising, really — because she’d be almost two hours drive away if she’d been helping upstate, and that want taking rush hour traffic into consideration.

“Her foods gonna get cold.” Happy grumbled as all of them — him and May, Morgan, Tony and Pepper, Rhodey and Happy — crowded together on the couched in the living room, the _third_ How To Train Your Dragon (which had come out when he was gone, and was really, _really_ sad) played in the background. “And then she’s gonna be annoyed, and then I’ll have to fight her.”

“And you’ll get your ass kicked.” Rhodey laughed. _“Again.”_

The doorbell rang, and May jumped up, putting her Thai down on the coffee table in the centre of the mismatched couches. “That’ll be Nat!” She exclaimed, rushing toward the door.

 _“Finally.”_ Mister Stark muttered, rolling his eyes.

Peter heard the door opening, and May talking distractedly. “— ey Nat, your Thai’s on the bench — Tony ordered yours, so I hope that’s okay. I — _Carmen?”_

“May, darling!”

Peter jumped up at the sound of his Grandmother’s voice, chucking his own Thai on the coffee table with Mays, and running to the door.

And there his _very old_ abuela was, smiling between him and May happily. “Peter!” She exclaimed.

“Hey, Abuela!” He exclaimed, pulling the old woman into a hug. “I haven’t seen you in _so long!_ How’ve you been? How’s Coco?”

Coco was her dog.

“Coco is doing lovely, sweetie.” She smiled. “I hope you have enough food for me!”

“I, uh —“ Peters aunt looked at him helplessly, and he just shrugged. “— just wait a minute, Carmen, I’ll —“

“— who are all these people, May?” Abuela asked, looking at everyone in confusion.

“Uh… those are just some friends, Carmen.” May offered the old woman a smile, and lead her to the armchair. “That’s Tony and Pepper, their daughter Morgan, Happy, Rhodey,” She pointed to each of them as she said their names. “And Natasha should be here —“

“— right now.” Nat closed the door behind her, placing a motorcycle helmet on the bench and picking up her box of takeout as she walked in, seeming completely comfortable. “Nice to meet you, Mrs Parker. You can have this, I already ate — and I don’t trust Tonys food ordering skills.”

_“— Hey!”_

“Thank you so much, darling.” Abuela smiled at Natasha, and Peter grinned at them all.

This was super weird for him, but it was _awesome._

If _this_ was what the normal he had been dreading just that morning was, then he didn’t mind at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyyyyy here you go! Second last chapter! The next one will just be to like wrap it up, and then i’ll write a couple more docs in this story — maybe comment which you want first/most, because i’m thinking of adding like a before thanos/the development of the irondad relationship, a little in between piece of tony during the time heist (because in my mind it’s going a little differently in this universe), and then a couple of extras following the iron fam after this whole shot show 
> 
> Soooo yeah. See y’all in chapter ten! :D


	10. The Final Piece

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hey so holy shit we’re at the end of this roller coaster!
> 
> i mean, it’s not really over yet, cause I will add a few things to this series (because i can haha), and i have a few ideas, but if you have any, feel free to comment them :)
> 
> enjoy chapter ten guys!

“You got the ring spanner under there?”

“ _Yes_ , Mister Stark.” Peter replied, rolling his eyes as he looked at the underneath of the Audi. “Hey, can you chuck me the big bucket — tub thingy?”

“Here.” Mister Starks voice came from somewhere else in the workshop — somewhere other than underneath the car, where Peter was — and the large black bowl slid under the car, hitting him in the head.

“Ow.”

“Sorry kid!” His mentor yelled back. “You got the flashlight under there too, right?”

“Yeah, man. We’ve done this so many times, I know how to do it.” Peter said, unscrewing the drain plug with the ring spanner.

They were in the workshop at the Starks lake house, where Peter and May stayed most weekends. Excluding the fact that it was underground, it was a very similar shop to the one at the old compound — holo-tables, screens everywhere, lots of expensive cars, and the sound of sort of loud music in the background.

It was comfortable; a sort of escape from reality for both of them. Here, they could act like Peter hadn’t died, and then nearly died again, staying in a little safe bubble.

“Whatever, Dominic Toretto.” Mister Stark said, and Peter could practically see his smirk. “Just making sure you don’t destroy my favourite car!”

“I don’t think i’m physically capable of stuffing up an oil change anymore, Mister Stark!” He rolled to the side slightly as he pulled outthe drain plug, to avoid the oil that was now draining into the big tub. “We’ve dons it so many times that i’m a pro now.”

Mister Stark gave a short snort of laughter. “Okay, fine — just proves that I trained you well.”

“Whatever.” He muttered, pushing the now full tub away from him, and cranking the old oil filter. “You wish you could be this skilled — there’s a reason that you make me do it! And can you pass me the new filter? Make sure that you —”

“Hey, I know what i’m doing too, Parker!” The older man exclaimed, as the new filter also slid beneath the car to join him.

“Course you so, sir — that’s why you’re sitting up there doing nothing while I do all the work!”

“Well can you hurry up with the work? Rhodey and Nat are gonna be here soon, and Happy might even be here already, upstairs, with May...”

“He and I need to have a serious conversation about what he wants with my Aunt.” Peter said bluntly, as he finished attaching the new oil filter, and put the drain plug back in.

He crawled out from underneath the elevated car, wiping his oil covered hands on the old towel lying on the floor, and grabbed the large bottle of new oil from one of the shelves.

“Here’s the funnel.” Mister Stark said, handing him the bright green — _why?_ — funnel, before turning back to the nanotech Iron Man watch that he was working on.

When Peter was finished pouring the new oil into the motor, and was checking that it was full, the loud music stopped abruptly, making both him and his mentor turn around swiftly — only to see Pepper standing at the glass door at the bottom of the stairs.

“Please don’t turn off our music.” Mister Stark said somewhat bluntly, leaving his work to give Miss Potts a quick kiss on the cheek.

“I’m actually really surprised, Tony.” Miss Potts said in amusement, grinning. “That wasn’t AC/DC. It was even — from this century! Radioactive. Not really your usual style, what happened, honey?”

“Ha ha.” Mister Stark said, rolling his eyes, stepping over to Peter, and grasping his shoulder. “Radioactive isn’t my song, it’s Pete’s.”

“‘Cause, radiation, yknow?” Peter added with a small laugh. “Doctor Cho was in on Wednesday, and so she did a bit of a checkup, and my blood is three-point-eight percent radioactive! How crazy is that?”

“Really?” The woman asked, genuine surprise in her voice. “Wait — _how?”_

“It was already at three-point-two percent before... everything.” Mister Stark took his hand off Peters shoulder to vaguely gestured to his right arm — the metal one. “That was from the spider bite. Apparently magic space stones added point-six percent radiation to his blood.”

“It’s awesome.” Peter nodded his head decidedly, making Miss Potts Laugh.

“Yeah?” Miss Potts smiled, one eyebrow raised slightly. “Well, Rhodey and Nat just got here, and dinners ready, so you guys need to —“

Miss Potts was cut off as the world began to shake, a low rumbling filling the ear.

Peter clamped his hands over his ears, and squeezed his eyes shut. He could hear everything, and hear everything, blinding light spilling through his closed eyelids, every smell on his nose, every taste on his tongue.

But, surprisingly, there was no tingling at the back of his neck. No instinct anywhere in his mind, screaming “ _Danger! Danger!”_

Whatever this was, it was coming in peace.

The commotion stopped with a final thud, and Peter could hear a sound above them, like a mechanical door opening.

“You okay, Pete?” Mister Starks hand was on his shoulder, the mans features filled with worry. Miss Potts was gripping his other hand tightly, looking at the ceiling as though she was trying to burn a hole in it.

“Yeah.” Peter gulped. “Yeah, i’m fine. I don’t think this thing is a threat.”

His mentor raised an eyebrow sceptically, and the three of them made their way upstairs cautiously.

On the main level of the house, they found May running after Morgan, Rhodey and Happy close on her heels, as Natasha followed at a cautious distance, gun raised.

“Blue!” Morgan’s excited cry made all of them relax, and they all heard the front door open, and then close.

“Nebula!” Mays warm voice said, making Nat finally lower her gun, and Mister Stark retract his repulsor gauntlet — wow, Peter hadn’t even noticed the gauntlet appearing.

Morgan dragged Nebula into the living room, May standing behind her, laughter evident on her face. “Looks who’s here!” His Aunt exclaimed.

“I have come on a visit.” Nebula said lowly, the corners on her lips slightly raised. Anyone who knew her knew that as her greatest expression of happiness.

Sunday dinners, as a rule, were never calm. This was only Peters fifth Sunday night dinner since he awoke, — that first night didn’t count, he was hyperventilating the whole time — and fourth since leaving Wakanda, but even in that short amount of time, he had learned that these family dinners were never short of complete chaos.

The only times other than Sunday dinners that they had all been together for— obviously excluding Nebula, she had been in space for quite a while — were the night of his first day back at school, and then Monday just past, when Morgan insisted she start preschool.

Miss Potts and Mister Stark had been reluctant to agree to that one, but Peter and May had convinced them.

“So basically,” Mister Stark said, waving around fork, and the piece of chicken on it. “I get pulled in to speak with the teacher on Friday, when i’m picking Little Miss up from preschool,”

Morgan giggled, and Peter grinned at her stupidly, making the four and a half year old laugh more.

“And her teacher goes, ‘Mister Stark, I know your a very busy man, but I need to have a meeting with you and your wife on Monday, concerning your daughter!’” Mister Stark used a stupidly high voice while imitating Morgan’s teacher, making even Nebula smile. “And so obviously I’m already running late; I’ve still gotta pick up Pepper and May, Peters hidings out in the car,”

“I don’t appreciate being locked in your car, sir. You promised me an ice cream, and did you get me one? No. You didn’t get me ice cream.” Peter cut in, mock glaring at his mentor.

Nat snorted, choking on the orange juice that she was drinking — that was something Peter had learned since this strange family formed; black widow loved orange juice. _Pretty interesting fun fact right there._

He wasn’t quite sure why the words _just like mom_ followed that thought.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah. Anyway, i’m like ‘okay, see you on Monday then, for this meeting.’ And she agrees and everything, then Morgan,” He turned to face Morgan dramatically, “Is like, ‘Bye Miss Sanders, thanks for checking in. I’m still a piece of Garbage!’ and then just waits for me to meet her at the cat like nothings happened!”

“I promise I had nothing to do with that.” Peter said, smirking and leaning back in his chair. “Nothing _at all_.”

“Hey, AJ!” Nat whispered the newest version of her favourite name for him (Angeloff Junior), beckoning for him to lean closer to her, which he did. “Stop tainting your sister!”

“Ouch. I honestly just came here for a good time, and I’m honestly feeling so attacked right now.”

“I don’t understand this preschool.” Nebula said suddenly, sitting up straight very abruptly. “Is it preparation for warrior training, or do they just colour in pictures constantly, like Morgan does?”

Dinner continued like usual — Rhodey and Mister Stark got into a total of three arguments over who was remembering things from their MIT days correctly, Peter channeled his amazing brother skills to distract Morgan, which was helped greatly by Nebula teaching them some knife throwing techniques. Nat and Happy got into a wrestling match, which the former won within two minutes, May somehow broke the kitchen bench while getting a cup of water, and Miss Potts eventually banished Mister Stark to stay with their pet alpaca (he only lasted five minutes outside).

After dinner was also normal for a Sunday night. Rhodey left in his suit, Natasha rode away on her motorcycle, and Happy dropped Peter and May back in Queens on his own way home. Nebula went back to wherever she had been, and the three Starks followed Happy in the orange R8.

Sunday’s were the _best_.

Mister Stark hadn’t let them leave without double checking all of Peters suits systems, and making sure that everything was fully functioning. Monday marked a month since leaving Wakanda; the day that the Spider-Man ban would be lifted.

And so Monday morning rolled around, and Peter got the subway to school. He still got some looks from strangers, obviously regarding his prosthetic, but people at school were used to it now.

The day also progressed like any other. He met Ned, MJ, Flash, Cindy, Abe and Betty for Chemistry with Mister Cobbwell. Then AP math with Ms Warren.

At break, the nine of them still stuck together; Peter, Ned, MJ, Cindy, Betty, Abe, Jason, Flash, Ellie and Catelynn. Though he hadn’t known the two cheerleaders in the time before, Peter was actually becoming pretty close with them — they all were.

Nobody else in their year — that wasn’t transferred — had blipped, so that one shared experience was enough to keep them in a bit of a secluded bubble. They were friendly with the others too, sure, but it wasn’t really the same.

Then Peter and Ned had a free period, then Spanish, lunch break, and History. They had decathlon after school; MJ was still the captain, he, Ned, Flash, Cindy and Abe were still on the team, with the addition of Brad Davis, Yasmin Brooke and Josh Barack.

And, after all that, with a Delmars number five in hand, he snuck into an alleyway to change into his suit.

_Because Spider-man was coming back._

“Miss Potts, Mister Stark.”

Tony opened his mouth to reply, but Pepper did instead, shooting him a look. “Hello Miss Sanders. Tony said you had some concerns about Morgan?”

The teacher gave a small smile, and ducked her head, sliding a piece of paper toward them. It was a drawing that Morgan had done — with Peters help.

“We asked everyone to do a drawing of their family at horn last week, and bring it in on Friday. This was your daughter’s, and I just wanted to... clear some stuff up.”

It was completely obvious to Tony that it was a depiction of their family. It was a pretty good drawing, too. For a four year old.

Morgan had drawn herself between him and Pepper, Pepper in some sort of skirt and shirt, Tony in a tee shirt that said _AC/DC_ written on it, and awkwardly drawn shorts. On Peppers side, three more figures were drawn; Happy, large and round, in a black, suit-like outfit with a frown on his face, May, in an orange dress, with a big smile, long hair, and oversized glasses, and Peter, in a blue shirt and pants, with his right arm coloured completely grey. On Tony’s side we’re three more people; Nat, in her black uniform, with bright red hair and something that looked like a gun in one hand, Rhodey, his head floating on a grey and black shape that Tony supposed was his suit, and Nebula, completely blue, with basically her exact clothes, if you added a very in-Nebula skirt to it. Above them all was a red blue blob — Spider-man — attached to the side of the paper with a web pattern.

Tony grinned, and Pepper suppressed a laugh behind her hand.

“So...” Miss Sanders continued, pointing her pen at the three middle people. “These are obviously the two of you, and your daughter, but what about... this one?” She moved the pen to the rendition of Nebula.

Pepper let the laugh out a little, but composed herself quickly. “That would be Nebula. She is an Avenger, and she comes from space.”

“Yknow, only cousin at the family gathering that you actually like kinda vibes.” Tony added, making his wife roll her eyes.

“Right. And so i’m assuming that these two are Colonel Rhodes and Natasha Romanoff?” The teacher removes the pen to point out Rhodey and Nat.

“Yes, that is Colonel Rhodes and Natasha Romanoff —“

“Uncle Rhodey and Auntie Nat!” Tony said. Pepper flared at him. “What?”

Miss Sanders looked between them in amusement. “Then there’s Spider-man?”

“Yeah, uh...” Pepper, for once, didn’t seem sure as to what to say.

”Oh god, is it true?” She stared at Tony, her eyes wide. “Is Spider-Man really your illegitimate child? Is that — is _that_ why Morgan’s going to school in _Queens?_ ”

Tony snorted, and Pepper looked slightly mortified. “No, no.” He assured her, smirking. “Nothing like that — just a close friend.”

“Oh... And these three?”

Tony grinned again, looking at his daughters drawings of Happy, May and Peter.

“Happy, May and Peter. Happys in Asset Management at the company, and May and Peter are close friends.”

“Right.” Sanders seemed almost nervous, looking between him, Pepper and the drawing with a strange expression on his face.

Tony’s watch buzzed twice, and he gladly toon his attention away from the little meeting, to see a message from Karen.

Peter was in the suit.

He was an hour into patrol when he got a message from Mister Stark:

_Have fun, kid. Don’t get hurt, and remember that curfews at 10 now. Love you!_

Peter grinned. Open affection from his mentor was still strange and new to him, but it was very welcome.

“Uh, Karen?”

“Yes, Peter?” The AI answered in her usual warm tone.

“Can you please reply to Mister Stark? Say, ‘ _I will! Love you too_!’, heart emoji, spider emoji.”

“Message is sent.”

“Awesome! Thanks, Karen!”

“Your welcome, Peter.”

Peter shot a web, and swung through the city, feeling the wind fly past him and hearing the excited exclamations of citizens below him.

This was his element. Despite being behind a mask, in a secret identify, with the possibility of danger constant, this was one of his comfort zones.

Tonight, he would have Chinese in front of the TV in his apartment with May, watching either Schitts Creek or the Bachelor, depending on if it was him or May choosing. He would sit at his desk, and do his homework, talk to Shuri for a bit, and call Mister Stark to tell him all about his patrol.

Tomorrow, school was continue as usual. Classes would go on, he would go through his daily routine, and then go out Spider-manning.

On Friday, he would be staying at the lake house again, in the personalised room next door to Morgan’s, just down the hall from Mister Stark and Miss Potts, across from May. And then he and Morgan would play, and he and Mister Stark would mess around in the shop. Sunday dinner would come, and he would see his ‘extended family’, possibly with Nebula present.

Then it would repeat. Then the SATs would come, and then summer holidays.

The routine of his life would continue, an awkward yet harmonious balance between the ordinary and the extraordinary. The strange mix that made up the crazy life of Peter Parker.

But in that moment, all that there was was him and the city. Yeh need to shoot a web and keep swinging through Queens, ensuring that he didn’t fall.

Because despite everything — despite every single thing that had happened since April twenty third, 2018, one thing forever stayed true. The final piece of the equation;

He was Spider-man.

Neighbourhood hero, vigilante, avenger, saviour of the universe.

Peter Parker.

_Spider-man._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Spider-man and his crazy family will return. 
> 
> hey i just want to quickly say, thankyou all so much for you love and kudos and comments during this story, it means so much to me and i love y’all sm!
> 
> see you in the next part of this series i guess <3

**Author's Note:**

> hi it’s ten to five in the morning and i regret nothing yeehaw 
> 
> hehe i’m sorry i feel cruel, especially after how the last book ended...
> 
> pls tell me what u think 
> 
> HAVE A GREAT TIME OF THE DAY OR NIGHT I LOVE ALL OF YOU SEE YOU SOON XXX


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